


Restart

by DJ_chan



Category: Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-10-18 23:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 125,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17590499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJ_chan/pseuds/DJ_chan
Summary: After a sledging accident, Varian lost his memory, completely.When Quirin found him like this, it became clear that it wouldn't be an easy task to awaken his memories again, that is if the boy really should remember everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is a collaboration with nyxglitch on tumblr (https://nyxglitch.tumblr.com/)! It is an rp, that's why the passages will switch the points of view.

Quick footsteps were heard through the house as a thirteen-year old alchemist dashed through the rooms, looking for his coat and scarf. Moments later, he made his way to the door, tying the warm, red ribbon around his neck. "I'm going out to sledge!" he announced cheerfully, excited and restless to get out and play in the snow. It was a good year to play out in the winter weather. Cold, but he couldn't simply ignore the thick, white blanket that had covered everything. It was more than he had ever seen in his life so far. And he knew the perfect hill to play with his sleigh in.

Quirin hummed more than giving an actual reply. He was about to start the fire in the carmine, the castle had become cold over night. He looked up as the front door closed loudly. Varian was still a child, yet Quirin would prefer if the boy wouldn't run away like that. But the father only sighed, watching how the fire slowly grew as the flames got bigger and brighter, spreading and reaching the bigger logs. Time to do the daily work and later, once Varian returned, he could scold him a bit, leaving without asking if his father approved.

It didn't take him long to get to his destination. A relatively high hill, a little outside Old Corona, a few trees growing in clusters more and more in the distance. He climbed the hill, dragging the sleight behind him, then sliding down and repeat, a cycle that went on for a little while. It was almost a tradition for him to do this every winter. Granted, his father was there with him too. And he had no friends to accompany him. But he could make do. Besides, he wanted to test out a chemical that would turn the snow into more concentrated ice. Creating a better slide for him to use. It was the perfect plan. Just a few drops and he'd increase his speed by double the amount. Everything was in place and he let gravity drag him, getting faster and faster. It was at first, until he got too fast, no breaks available. Before he knew, the sleigh hit a boulder peeking out of the snow and sent him flying and toppling, a tree trunk not too far off from his course. The last thing he remembered was something hitting him in the back of his head, his uncontrollable motion coming to a halt suddenly, and everything went dark.

Time passed by and Quirin had lunch on his own. It was not unusual for him, Varian often stayed away for long, sometimes he had to remind the boy even while he was in the lab. With a worried look, his gaze went to the window, eyeing the cold winter landscape. It would snow soon, Quirin was sure. Was Varian aware of it? He had often tried to teach him to read the sky and predict the weather, but he couldn't tell how much of it the kid had taken by heart. The father started to do the dishes, trying to fight down the uncertain feeling that spread in his stomach. His son was alright, he had put on warm clothes for sure and they often had stayed out longer. With a sigh, he put the plate into the sink and started cleaning.

When he woke up again, his eyes were greeted with a foggy white, continuing to blind him even after his eyes focused. He looked around, eyes darting aimlessly, mouth gaping open until he realised his whole body spasming with shivers. He let out a shaky breath and pushed himself upright, bracing himself. He looked again, his surroundings making a little more sense from the new angle. A hill, snow, trees and what he could only guess was called a sleigh. That must have made the tracks in the snow. It was lying dormant now, toppled over like something had kicked it. How did that get there? And better yet... How did he get there? What was he doing out there, where was he?!... Who was he? The thought made his head spin even more. Who was he? That was easy! He was... him! But- what was his name? He found himself having trouble to recall it. He got up, holding his head, a throbbing pain in the back of his neck, still ever present. With wobbly steps, he walked to the trees, following what footprints he could find in the blank chaos underneath his feet. It was getting dark soon, the clouds looming over him even more aggressively, the wind howling more as if to warn whichever fool dared to walk outside at the snowfall yet to come.

The weather outside slowly got unsettling for the father. The dark clouds spread over the sky, turning the late afternoon in a dim light, like night time would have already started. Varian should be back by now. Everyone would be able to see the shift in weather and his son was maybe reckless, but not stupid. With furrowed brows he looked out of the front door, scanning the area he could see, hoping he could spot his son. But there was no child running back home. This was enough. He waited long enough. His stomach was already knotted, a bad feeling that was only fired by the weather. He hurried to grab a lantern and warm clothes and rushed out of the castle. Wherever his son was now, maybe he needs help!

Varian continued walking, fumbling in the darkness. He shook violently, chills running down his spine and his skin almost stinging at the freezing wind. His hands were also starting to feel numb, his feet too. It was becoming harder to walk. Wobbly steps taking him further into the unknown. He didn't know where he was or who he was. And it was becoming a little harder to care about such details too. He simply pressed on, hoping to find something, eventually. He wasn't sure what, but it seemed better than standing in one place doing nothing.

Quirin was not exactly sure where his son was, but he had an idea where he had gone. There was a hill not far away they had often visited when sledging. He had showed him this spot long ago when Varian had been little. The hours playing in the snow while the sun shone onto them brightly seemed so far away. The happy laughter of his son had been years ago. The only noise he could hear now was the sound of his own footsteps, a crunching while they sunk deep into the white snow and the rustling of the branches while the wind pushed them around. After some minutes, he reached the hill and his heart already beating wildly. Someone had been here, trails of footsteps and sledge runners printed into the snow. His eyes darted around, but no child could be seen. Instead of his boy, he saw splinted wood shattered all over the white, a broken sledge, which looked horribly familiar. Quirin gasped with shock, freezing for a heartbeat. Then, like a starting signal had sounded, his body was able to move and he hasted down the slope, almost stumbling due to the deep snow. When he reached the spot of the accident he hurried around, trying to find his son. But there was only cold snow, and no boy stuck somewhere in between. His eyes searched for hints of what had happened and although the snow was quiet, it told him a lot with all the trails. Varian had rolled a bit further, against a tree and some drops of blood made his stomach curl.

_He was injured!_ Quirin whirled around, a fruitless attempt to find the direction his son had gone to after the accident. But there were no other trails. No footsteps leading away. This could only mean he walked back. To the castle. But he would have met him on the way, wouldn't he? Maybe Varian lost his orientation? The father started to climb the hill, hurried steps in the damn snow that hindered him in walking faster. On the top he paced further, starting to shout Varian's name. If he got lost, he must have been somewhere close, followed another trail than the one which leaded back to the village. Maybe he already noticed the mistake and headed back? Quirin would find him, must find him, the weather started to get worse.

The boy continued walking, nameless with no goal, his will to even continue fading along with his strength to keep himself standing. For him, the situation was as such: Name: none, Destination: none, therefore, his motivation to find a way out of this coldness was non-existent. The only thing that kept him going was his own instinct, but the voice was slowly muffled, the screeching winds scratching his face as they passed right by his ears. His hands no longer felt like they were there, each move sending stabbing pains up his limbs, same with his legs. The world was also dimming as the dusk took over. Slowly but surely, he had become the very definition of lost. When out of the blue, a voice was heard, yelling at the top of his lungs, a man calling for someone. 'Varian' or something like it. He mimicked the name silently, his breath forming thick clouds in front of his blue lips. He had reached the point where the cold had turned him apathetic, lethargic. Whatever was going on in that stranger's life, it probably didn't concern him. Yet his curiosity, his natural need to understand the unknown, won, calling him to follow the sound, as if in an attempt to entertain himself in this dire time.

"Varian!" Quirin's voice was desperate, it felt like the shout was dragged away by the wind, unheard because of the roaring of the snowstorm. Thick snowflakes started to fall down, pushed along with the wind, stinging as they hit his face, too cold on the still warm skin. Another cry left his lips and he blinked while trying to see the trails, the lantern illuminating a bit of his path. All his hints slowly got covered by the snow. The steps he followed had looked like the freshest ones, they had to be. Losing them would mean losing the way to his son. He called again, trying to ignore his visible breath. It was so cold. Varian had been outside for so long. He must be freezing already. The father's heart ached at this thought, making him cry another time, louder and more desperate than ever. He was running out of time!

There it was again, that voice. That cry for some person he had never heard of. Whoever it was, it seemed the stranger calling them was worried beyond belief. Or were they angry? Had that 'Varian' done something wrong? Did he even want to be found? He didn't know, he didn't care. He just walked towards the voice, hesitant and slow, but it was his only lead in the nothingness. He had gotten closer now, the voice louder, his heart beating hard in his chest, yet somewhat slower, as if the fear wasn't there.

Quirin's eyes suddenly grasped a faint silhouette between the trees, too far away to be touched by the lantern light yet. The man gasped in surprise, a spark of hope rushed through him. Was this his son? He pushed his arm higher, like this would let the lantern illuminate the dark wood better. "Varian?" His voice wavered, thick of hope, but stained with a new fear, a fear that his eyes tricked him, that there was someone else or even nothing, that his worries made him see things. He tried to focus on the shadow, watching for a response while he rushed forward.

He froze there for a minute, eyes squinting at the figure in the distance, his own vision blurring and distorting the world around him. But then, unmistakably, he saw him move, heading towards him, a towering form with a light in his hand, charging at him. All of the alarms in his mind went off at once, his eyes widening a little as the smallest bit of adrenaline made his heart drum harder. He could only think of running away at the opposite direction, he didn't know this man or his intentions. It was better safe than sorry, even with his senses leaving him, a numbness crawling up his limbs. It was honestly miraculous that he could still stand, let alone move away, sluggish and wobbly.

The man had come close enough to realize it had been indeed his son. But instead of running towards him, he started to flee, clumsy but fast enough to rush away. Quirin stopped for a moment in confusion, couldn't think of a reason why Varian would do this. Was he afraid his father could be mad because of the broken sledge? This was the only thing he could think of. He started to run, following the small form before he would vanish into the dark. "Varian! Don't run away! Don't worry about the sledge!" He shouted while he dodged some trees, the lantern light shaking around wildly with his movements. "Wait!"

He had no idea what the man was yelling about, not that he could actually understand him either, the words leaving his head before he could make any sense of them. He sounded distressed. Or was it anger? He couldn't tell. All he could do was continue his course. But not for long. His leg buckled, his muscles giving in as he fell onto the snow. With each shallow breath, his throat froze even more, as if he was swallowing needles. He wouldn't stop shivering, his hands almost non-existent by this point. A slow pulse thumped in his ears. It could have been the man's footsteps, but it didn't grow louder at all.

Quirin saw his son fall, making his heart stop for a moment. Was he hurt? Further? With heaving lungs, he caught up, his heart beating nervously in his chest. Varian was broken down and he didn't move anymore, eyelids half closed, the gaze distant. _Was he..?_ He crouched down with a desperate move, scooping the boy up carefully. "Varian, son, hold on..." He could feel his chest moving, slowly but steadily. The father would have been so glad about this fact, but another thing wiped all his relief away. Varian was ice cold! The small frame was shivering horribly, his skin already pale. Quirin pressed him a moment closer, trying to give him some of his own warmth. But he knew that it wouldn't work this way, the air way too cold while the wind blew into their faces, dragging the little warmth away that radiated from their skin. Quirin put the boy down again, slipping with fast moves out of his fur vest and wrapped it around Varian. He also put his cape over it before he scooped him up again. It was not far. He could manage. Quirin ignored his own shivering, holding Varian as close as possible while hurrying through the night, running and stumbling, catching himself before falling, running further, faster, back to the castle, back to the warmth.

The boy no longer understood what happened, his entire body feeling numb. The urge to sleep, suddenly hitting him over the head like a bat. Whatever was wrapping around him now, did not help his case to stay awake. His eyes could no longer focus, the world going darker than it already was. He was still shaking in the stranger's arms, short and shallow breaths making his lungs and throat ache. It didn't take long for him to black out completely. At least now, the questions could leave him alone. No more 'where are we going?', 'who is this man?', 'who am I?'. For a moment, he could finally rest again. Still, a single word echoed in his mind. Or rather, a name. 'Varian...'.

Quirin had tried to keep him awake, speaking to him with quick words between fast breaths, repeating them like a poem. With beating heart, he teared open the front door of the castle and stumbled inside, leaving a trail of wet footsteps, snow and mud. The hallway was not much warmer than outside, so he hurried further, the room with the carmine his goal. This place was already warm and the father put the boy carefully down in front of the carmine. It still radiated a nicely warmth, although the fire had retreated, only glowing a bit now. He would fix this later. First, he unwrapped the child from his cape, the fabric already damp and covered with snow. That's when he realized Varian had fallen asleep, a short moment of shock rushing through him. But then, he saw the soft breathing, Varian was still alive and already a bit warmer than he had found him in the woods. But still, not warm enough. Quirin continued to remove the wet coats and scarves, they would cool him down further. He wrapped him in thick blankets and placed the small form in front of the heating source. With fast paces, he marched to get a towel, the hair of the boy was wet as well. His heart hasn't calmed down yet, beating even faster than his quick steps. He needed to warm him up, the boy clearly fighting against hypothermia. The blue lips came back to his mind, an unmistakable sign for it. He returned a minute later, kneeling down to his boy, gently placing his head on his lap, rubbing the hair dry with the towel. His worried gaze lay onto the relaxed features, the skin still cool and a bit blueish. His heart ached at this sight, Varian so fragile and almost lifeless, laying still like a puppet, only the tiny movements as the air flowed through his nose told Quirin he was still alive.

He had stayed still for a long while, lost in sleep as he regained his senses, the heat bringing him back to reality. His breathing was deeper now, the air no longer attacking him from the inside. The shivering has also ceased long ago, only warmth surrounding him. He had just started getting comfortable again, opening his eyes to the fire's light, shining in his face. He then realised the blankets he was covered with and the hard floor underneath him, a stark contrast to the soft covers. He moved around a little, slight pins and needles in his hands and legs. But regardless, he could feel them again. Although his consciousness was returning, he had yet to work out where he was. Or how he got there.

Quirin had watched Varian for a bit, holding his hands in his own once he had warmed up himself, stroking and moving his fingers a bit to get them back to a normal temperature. The child hasn't moved, a thing that had made him worry, but he didn't want to wake him either. Slowly, the boy was warm again and Quirin dared to leave him to prepare a warm bath. The water would heat him up completely once he was awake again. He ran for wood and filled the tub with water, heating a bit of it over a fire he started. While the water heated up, he was on his way back, checking on Varian. And indeed, he had opened his eyes again, his gaze disoriented but awake, eyes shifting around. Quirin hurried over and knelt down, looking at him with concern. "Varian. How do you feel?" He reached out to stroke the hair of his son, relieved he made it.

There it was again, that name. Who was the man talking to? He watched him approach, a hand extending towards him and making the boy flinch and scramble away from him, crawling with the feels of his palm and kicking his feet, sitting up. He stared at him, startled. Unable to recognise a single feature of the person in front of him. He was panicking. He had to figure something out quickly. Alright, what did he know? He was in a house of some sort, he was safe, as far as he could tell, at least no longer in the deadly cold, and this man seemed to have saved his life, calling him by the same name he heard him yell out in the storm. Was that his own name? It couldn't be, he would remember that! ...Right?

Varian's eyes went wide and he fled out of Quirin's reach, the father's hand still outstretched and somehow lost. The man looked surprised, his son's face so scared and confused that it stung in his heart. "Varian?" It was the same reaction he had showed in the woods, a panic like he was afraid of him. Why? Slowly his brain put the pieces together, the broken sledge, the trails in the snow, the tree, the blood. The boy took the wrong way too, on a path he should know by heart. But still he refused to accept the answer that formed in his mind. He clung onto a easier solution, the sledge. "Varian, I don't mind the broken sledge. We can build a new one. I'm just glad you are safe." His gaze softened and he let down the hand, placing it in his lap.

Again with the name. The man seemed to insist. He was positive that he was talking to him, that he was the one he was calling 'Varian'. Yet the word barely rang a bell. He had heard it a few times now already, but it sounded so foreigner, otherworldly. At least the man had taken his hand away now, the distance helping to ease his tension. He brought up the sleigh again, the first thing he remembered when he woke up in the snow. How did that man know about it? And what did he mean by 'we can build a new one?'. Who were they? Did they know each other. He had never seen this man in his life, not that he could recall. He looked at him, full of confusion. "Who... are you?" he asked, a little frightful, but he knew it was a necessary question.

Quirin gasped at the words, the question confirming his former thoughts, he could no longer hope for something else. Varian seemed to have lost his memory. How much, Quirin couldn't tell, but enough to look at his own father like he would see a stranger. His throat felt like being strangled, yet he managed to press out an answer. "Varian... I'm... your father."

He continued to stare at him, the words sounding so odd, making little to no sense. He had a father? Part of him found it a logical conclusion to say yes, but how did he know it was this man? And who was Varian?! That one he still couldn't grasp. If that really was his name and not some else's, he would have known! "You are... And who's Varian?" he asked, hoping to at least get an answer than made some sense.

The boy tilted his head, like he couldn't grasp the words. Another question followed, one that felt so wrong. His little boy didn't even know his own name? The name he gave him once, together with his mother, the name which rolled softly over their lips on the day he was born, a small bundle wrapped in a blanket, looking up at them with curious eyes. Now, Varian also looked up at him, but lost, confused, like he doubted Quirin's words. "Varian, it's your name. Son, _you_ are Varian." He gulped. The whole situation was like a nightmare. He wished so much it would be the case. He wanted to wake up. So badly. But the crackling of the fire was real, the stone under his feet was real and his confused child in front of him was real. His gaze went desperate and sad. Has the boy forgotten everything?

'My name?' he thought, eyes darting around underneath knitted brows. He looked for confirmation in these words, hoping that maybe something in his surroundings will tell him to trust him, to believe him. Frankly, it was the only lead he had. But did he really want to trust a stranger when he couldn't even trust his own memory? It was a gamble for him. What if he said the wrong thing? He didn't know who he was dealing with after all. He did save his life, granted. But he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. If only he knew that this 'something' was himself. He also called him 'son' on top of the name he could still not connect to himself. He claimed he was his father earlier. Varian still had a hard time believing that. He had yet to see his reflection, he didn't even quite remember what he looked like. But a voice in the back of his head whispered that they were not much alike. It was the only lead he had. "I... think I would have known that..." he replied, a bit defensive. He finally gave one more look around the room, what seemed to be a living room, that he could recall what it was."Where are we?"

"Well, I guess it's due to the accident you had." Quirin hasn't seen much blood there, but the hit must have been hard enough to blow away the memory. "We are at home." He needed a moment to realize Varian couldn't work with this information. "A castle. In Old Corona. Kingdom of Corona." After he added those things, he scanned the child again. He hasn't recognized a laceration. Did he have a bump? "Does your head hurt?"

'Accident?-' he thought, but didn't ask quite yet, wanting to know where he was first. The answer, while full of specific information, didn't help to orient him at all. He was in a kingdom, in an older part of it, so most likely not the capital. And a castle? Why were they in a castle? Was the man royalty? No, he didn't look like it. His apparel too worn out and tattered to look like a king. Or even someone working close to a royal. Was... this Varian a royal? He still couldn't connect himself with that name. Or any name at all. He was a nobody. All he had was the stranger's words. Then, he asked him a question, finding it odd how he referred to his head specifically. "Um... A little?" he replied, his hand on the back of his head, carefully hovering over the source.

Varian reached to his head without touching it. Maybe he was hurt. The father raced to his feet to walk a bit closer, shortening the distance the boy had created with scrambling away. "Do you have a bump?" He crouched down again, ready to take a look at the possible injury.

The sudden movement alarmed him, ready to run away again. But then the man stopped, asking him if he was hurt. He thought about it and replied with a lost look. "N-No, I don't think so... Why? Did I hit my head?"

"It seems so, you lost your memory..." With careful movements he parted the hair at the spot Varian had showed him, revealing a little bump. "We should probably cool this."

Varian stiffened at his movement, calming down again once he moved away. He had lost his memory? That sounded both absurd and perfectly logical, all at once. From putting the pieces together, he had hit his head, maybe the broken sleigh was part of the equation. It must have been. It was enough of an explanation for how he got to this state, for now. Currently, he had to figure out who he was, reclaim what memories he could salvage. "Are you... really my dad?" he asked, still unable to believe it. He couldn't just trust the first thing a stranger told him. He could very well have fallen into a trap. Or maybe the man was confusing him with someone else?

The question hit him off guard. Varian didn't even trust him? He cupped the child's face with his hands. "Varian, of course I am your dad." He looked deep into his eyes, searching for trust, hoping he would remind him with the eye contact. He couldn't have forgotten all those years, could he?

Terror flashed in Varian's eyes as Quirin moved closer, holding his face, finding no comfort in the contact that he'd normally seek out with no response. Now he just wanted to flee, to run, to get the distance back. He didn't know this man, he didn't know who he was or what he wanted. The words tried to sound reassuring, but it only fueled his doubts. "How do I know that?..." he questioned him, trying to pry his hands off his face, slowly and carefully from his wrists.

"Because..." Quirin struggled for words. This was ridiculous! How could he convince him? The father was lost, didn't know what to tell him. "Varian..." He started again, watching sadly how the child tried to pull his hands away. "Just believe me." He put the hands away, didn't want to unsettle the boy further. "See. You are hurt and your temperature had been very low. I made a bath for you, the water should be ready." He stood up, holding out a hand to help Varian up. "Can you walk?"

That didn't answer his question. If anything, it made him even more suspicious. The boy frowned more, moving back as he tried to stand by himself. He wasn't going anywhere with him. He shook his head a bit at him, his stance defensive. Even if this man was his father, he still didn't know - _couldn't know_ \- for sure what he was like. To let down his defenses, would be a horrible idea.

Quirin frowned, the boy already backing away again. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This is going to be difficult. "Varian, it's just a bath. It will warm you."

"I'm not going anywhere until I know what's going on!" he replied, getting a little frustrated now. Did this stranger really expect him to just do as he asked? He didn't care if he was cold, he felt fine now anyways. What he wanted was to know who he was and who this man was. What did he want and why did he bring him here?

Quirin didn't understand. What else did Varian want to know? Why did he refuse to believe him? And why was he so stubborn? Quirin was no man of words and he reached a limit. Varian simply had to follow his orders, even if... The man shook his head, tired of thinking about it and approached the child, scooping him up with no effort. "First the bath, next the questions. You are still not heated up properly, you could catch a cold."

Varian's eyes shot wide open, kicking and pushing to get out of Quirin's grip. "Put me down!" he yelled, getting distressed now. Now he seriously couldn't trust him. He didn't care if he had good intentions even, he wanted the truth and he wanted it before anything else. He ended up falling over, landing on the floor on his back.

Although Quirin tried to hold him, fighting down the struggling, the boy slipped out of his arms, hitting the stony ground. The man gasped in shock, crouching down instantly. "Varian, are you hurt?" His hands hovered over the frame, he wanted to scoop him up again, away from the cold and hard floor, but he wanted to make sure if the boy was alright first.

He pushed himself away from Quirin first and quickly got up. "G-get away from me!" he demanded, taking a few more steps back. It was all crashing down again. Varian couldn't trust him after how the man grabbed him. Quirin needed to hit restart if he wanted to get Varian to calm down at all.

"Varian, calm down! I won't hurt you!" He couldn't see his mistake. Instead of giving him more space he stood up and lifted the child again, holding him closer than last time with no chance to let him slip away anymore. He shouldn't get hurt more. And he needed this bath. With wide steps he walked forward, his grip didn't loosen this time. Dragging his son like this made his heart heavy, but what else should he do? With some struggle, he reached the bathroom and he released the child carefully next to the bathtub, making sure he stood on his feet before letting go. "See? Just a bath." The father huffed a little exhausted, but didn't let the boy out of his sight. "I just need to mix the hot water to it and then I'll leave." He wished he could put ice on the back of his head also, but Varian was so defensive, he clearly didn't want to have him here while he was in water. The treatment of the bump has to wait. The bath would probably not only warm the boy up, but also give him some time to cool down.

Varian continued to fight him, but he couldn't escape him. He tried to kick and move and shove himself away, but nothing. He was finally let down and run away from him as much as he could, his back on the wall, backed into a corner as he watched him with his heart racing. The anxiety made him ill, uncertain and scared and even angry at him for not explaining anything to him. What did he have to hide, exactly? Did he think that he remembered a few things? Truth is, Varian was blank. And Quirin's insisting with invading his space as if Varian knew who he was, did not help in the slightest. He watched him with an intense look, on alert in case anything happened. He was almost shivering again. But this time, not due to the cold.

Quirin saw how Varian fled, pressing himself into a corner like a trapped animal. His gaze was fixed on the man, wary and utterly scared while his chest moved quickly, a raced breath most likely accompanied by a racing heart. This wasn't what the father had tried to achieve. A wave of guilt rolled over him, he shouldn't have grabbed him this way and forced him here. The realisation came late and he felt more lost than ever. What to do now? How could he fix this? He stared some moments at his frightened child, but no idea came to his mind. With a sigh, he sat down on a nearby stool. His face pointed down, the gaze somewhere on the ground near the bathtub. "I'm sorry, son." His voice was quiet, a mumbling as he placed his fingertips on his forehead. "I didn't meant to scare you."

The boy kept watching him, his stare piercing him almost. "Who are you and what do you want from me?" he spoke again, insisting with his question, demanding an answer. The man had sat down now, making him curse internally. How was he supposed to escape with him in the room? And he looked... sorry? As if he didn't want to cause him any distress? Yet he carried him here when Varian was absolutely clear with him that he didn't want to? And he continued to call him son! That still sounded so out of place to him, he didn't know what to trust. Should he even trust anything at all? He didn't know. He didn't know so much and it was driving him crazy. He couldn't figure out this man at all, his motivation, his current emotions, nothing. All he knew was what that same man had told him. _'You are my son... I'm your father'._ That, still explained nothing.

Varian asked again questions, the first one a repetition. Quirin already had told him the answer. Yet, it didn't seem to be enough. Maybe he should tell him more than he was his father. Probably, this was the only way to get through him. The man looked up, holding the boy's gaze. With a slow, but clear voice, he spoke up. "My name is Quirin. I'm the leader of Old Corona, a village on the border of Corona. I have a thirteen year old son, Varian. That's you. We live alone in this castle." The father made a pause, gulping down a lump that had build during this awkward situation. "I want from you to get well and stay safe. That's why you should take a bath. You should warm up to avoid getting ill." He waited for a response, hoping this information would finally break the ice between them.

It annoyed him beyond belief that he was so persistent on the bath. Varian wasn't doing anything before getting all the answers he needed about himself. And nothing could change that. He could stay there all day if he had to, he wasn't just going to blindly accept anything from a stranger. He remembered that advice very well. If only he knew who gave it to him. And he didn't feel cold anymore either! Or at least he could have sworn he didn't. He shook his head and replied flatly "No.". "No, I'm- I'm not doing anything-! I-I'm not taking orders from some stranger! I don't know who I am or who you think I might be, but until I know the truth for myself, I'm NOT moving an inch..." he nearly yelled, looking at him with a near hateful gaze.

Quirin had waited calmly, but this hash response shook him. He had to hold himself back to not answer loudly, to snap at this disrespectful tune. He had to keep calm. He was not his father right now, not in Varian's eyes. He was just a stranger, an intimidating one on top of that. Quirin forced himself to turn a blind eye at the behaviour and sighed defeated. "Fine. Ask your questions."

Admittedly, he was a little taken aback that the stranger gave up. But it worked to his advantage, so he paid it no mind. "What happened to me? Why was I out in the snow? And who were you looking for out there?" he asked, his tone cold. In all honesty, he already kind of knew the answer, having put some of the pieces together already. He must have been using the sleigh, hit his head and lost his memory, the man had mentioned it earlier too, but he wanted to double check. Just in case. As for who the man was looking for, he would most likely answer him again that he was his son, that Varian person he kept bringing up. Regardless, he wanted to take things from the top, re-organise what he knew and what he needed to find out.

There they were. The questions. Quirin moved a bit on the chair before talking. "You told me you wanted to play with the sledge, but you hadn't returned for a while. So I walked to the hill we used to visit when sledging. The sledge was broken and the trails looked like you had rolled against the tree. You were not there, so I followed the footsteps until I found you." This was his side of the story. He couldn't tell him more, he had no clue how it was in detail.

It made sense. The information seemed to add up for now. Where they were, who this man was, what he was doing before he ended up forgetting everything. The basic pieces were falling into place. Yet the fact that he had forgotten everything kept him in a state of alert. What if there was something important he should remember. Say, what was his relationship with his father like? The man seemed to care about his well being, enough to look for him and make sure he didn't freeze to death. But there was also the fact that he carried him all the way here even though Varian was kicking and screaming. Was he always this way? And what if the man were to try to twist the situation to his advantage? To tell him things that weren't true. Was he even really his father?! "Right..." Varian nodded and tried to move towards a mirror, a strong need to confirm his suspicions at least a little. The boy that looked back was a stranger as much as the man was. His fingertips trailed his freckles, eyes scanning his face and his hair and that weird blue streak. Was that always there? The man didn't have it, or his blue eyes or black hair for that matter. He had no freckles either. Their builds were also so different, the boy in the mirror small and scrawny. To his defense, he was still very young. How much though, he didn't know. Even his age was a mystery. The man had said his son was thirteen years old. He could go with that for now. However, the point still stood. "But... How am I your son... We look nothing alike..." he pointed out, a little afraid of how the man might react. But he wasn't expecting Varian to blindly believe him, did he?

Varian started to move, an action against his former announcement. Was he satisfied with the things he told him by now? The boy stepped in front of the mirror, examining his appearance. Quirin stiffed up slightly. Varian was clever. Then his judgement came, calm and precise. The words stung in his heart. He _is_ his son, even though they didn't share the same features. He cleared his throat to get away the awful feeling of this thick lump that grew during Varian's observation. "You look more like your mother. I'm glad you do. She was beautiful." He didn't moved closer, staying at his stool, just continued to look over to the boy. "The black hair is from my line. I may have more of a dark brown, but my mother had black hair, like the wings of a raven."

Varian frowned a little, looking at the floor, then turning with a questioning gaze at Quirin. "I... had a mum?" he said in almost surprise. Of course he had a mother! It was simple logic. As for who she was, he once again, didn't know. And what happened to her? Where was she now? Did she leave because of this man or-? And even if he did look more like his mother than this man that claimed to be his father, did she also have the blue streak and the freckles? She must have! Otherwise, it made no sense.

Quirin saw his surprised look, like the boy wouldn't have expected to have a mum. "Yes, yes of course. A wonderful mum. She loved you." They had never talked about her the last years. He didn't even know how much the boy remembered. Before the accident. Now it was clear, he didn't remember anything. All those memories, wiped away. Memories he couldn't refresh properly, she couldn't make new ones with him, she was gone long ago and the realization Varian would probably be never able to recall even a tiny bit of her, made his chest tighten and his heart being squeezed, like an invisible hand would try to smash it without any mercy.

The idea of having a parent that loved him sounded appealing, even though he didn't remember what that felt like. "And- what happened to her? Where is she?" he asked, hoping that if he saw her, he'd maybe remember something. The man had mentioned that he lived alone with his son in this castle. So, she must have not been around here anymore. Still, it was worth asking.

Quirin's gaze went downwards, telling him this part of the past hurt. "She died long ago." He fidgeted with his hands, something he didn't do often, but he felt like he had to to fight back up-welling feelings, the former thoughts still lingering in his mind.

Varian was a little shocked, but he had thought of that possibility. "Oh..." he managed to say, not able to feel any empathy for a person he had never even met. "I'm-...sorry." he said, only feeling a little bad about the man. He had lost his wife after all. As for his son, he had a suspicion that maybe that person might had also suffered the same fate, and the man was simply becoming deluded with denial. But he almost wanted to be wrong, he wanted for the man to be his father, for himself to be this Varian that he spoke of as if he missed so badly. It was more of an identity than he had until now. He had managed to walk past the man, finding an opportunity to walk towards the hallway, looking around the unfamiliar house, two doors in the distance. He didn't recognise any of it. As if it were the first time he had found himself there. Looking lost again as if he were still in the woods.

Varian replied with some half-hearted condolences, but Quirin couldn't blame him. The boy really couldn't remember a relationship to her, as well as he couldn't remember Quirin. The father was in thoughts as the child walked away, noticing his movements as the boy reached the door and walked through it, looking around like he tried to orientate himself. It didn't seem he was about to flee, so Quirin didn't hurry. He stood up slowly and stepped a bit in his direction. "Should I show you around?"

He darted a look at him and nodded, a bit of pleading in his eyes. "Yes, please..." he said, his previous anger having disappeared for now. Starting over sounded like a good idea. He had already hit restart on his memories anyway. He needed to calm down again after the arguments and the shock. A tour of his supposed home sounded like a good idea. Hopefully, it would help him recall a few things.

Quirin put the water away from the fire before he walked out of the bath. "Alright." They were at the ground floor and the man looked over to the next two doors. "Over there are the room for laundry and a storage room. I'm not sure if you want to see."

"How about the other rooms first?" he asked, looking for something he could find answers and meaning in. Maybe a painting or a book or anything at all that could remind him something.

"Good. Follow me." Quirin walked in front, hoping the boy would be obedient for once. They walked through a hallway, some old things hanging on the walls, but nothing too personal. Some old swords as decoration as well as various paintings from the landscape around Old Corona. Eventually, they reached another door. "That's the kitchen." The man opened the door and revealed a medium sized room, lit by two windows. Under one of them, a small bench, pillows on both sides, welcoming, yet they looked a bit abandoned. In the middle a table with three chairs, the stove and sink on the wall with the other window, along with the kitchen worktop. The pans hung on the wall, the plates placed on small boards beside them. Everything looked neat and clean.

It was a cozy little room, had a homey feel to it, yet he didn't feel all that familiar with it either. It looked like the place where a family once lived. It may have been the cold weather or the little sunlight that could reach the windows over the clouds, but it felt cold and distant. Kinda like the man in front of him. He seemed to fit this and all the other rooms so far, quite perfectly. Varian however still felt like an intruder, the very same rooms he had taken his first steps in when he was a toddler, feeling like they had only just began to exist today. "Did I maybe have a room of my own?" he asked, as if the answer would be 'no'. But he couldn't know that, not without being told or seeing for himself.

Varian stepped into the kitchen and scanned his surrounding carefully. He looked curious and attentive, but Quirin could see in his eyes that nothing looked familiar to him. In the end, he ask about his own room. Maybe the child was afraid the other rooms would also give him no hints, his own space most likely had the highest probability to give him flashbacks. Quirin nodded. "Yes, of course you have your own room. It's upstairs." The man signaled him to follow again, leading the boy to a big staircase. While he walked up the stairs, he listened to the footsteps, checking if the child still followed him. Varian's defensive position had left some fears in Quirin, a wary voice that mumbled the child could try to run away, back into the snow covered landscape. It was a horrible thought. He was glad that Varian was still behind him once they reached the top. With a move of the hand, he showed him a closed door. "This is your room."

He froze in front of the door for a moment, as if he felt he was going in the right direction. Even the stairs felt a somewhat practiced motion, as if he had gone up this way many times. He pushed the door open, a little reluctant and was quickly greeted by a small and messy room. Underneath a window, there was a bed, wide enough for one person, the sheets sloppily made in a hurry, some clothes on the floor. A wardrobe on one wall, a small night stand next to the bed, some books and other bits and pieces, all of them faint in his head, fuzzy with static. He stepped in, watching his surroundings further. His eyes fell on a stuffed toy, it looked like a raccoon, too old and worn out and patched to be able to tell for sure. He held it, something drawing him to it. His eyes stayed on it for bit, each stitch reminding him of something distant, long hidden deep in his memory.

This time the boy seemed to recognize something. He picked up the stuffed toy gingerly and looked at the old fabric, stitched several times. His eyes lingered on his old raccoon toy, the gaze slowly softened while his thumb moved over the thick yarn of one of the patches. Quirin knew this one, he stitched it himself onto Varian's toy as the stuffing was about to ooze out, the boy sitting on his leg with watery eyes and the father struggling to even thread the yarn, his fingers way too big for the tiny needle. Eventually, he had managed to prepare everything and his stitches had been wobbly and unsteady, but it had worked. And the patch was still in place, even if they were miles away from being perfect. The child had watched him with big eyes, scanning every move and if he really could save his friend with this. In the end, Quirin had stroked over the child's hair, handing him his precious toy, Varian had happily hugged his stuffed friend, like he had almost lost it forever. Quirin would never forget the relieved and glad sparkling in the child's eyes. Had Varian remembered anything from this? His gaze was a while onto the raccoon toy, maybe some pieces tried to come back to his mind.

Varian let the toy down carefully, back on the pillow, as if for someone else to find it, the someone it belonged to. He then turned at the man, still cautious, but a little more trusting now that he no longer had to fight him. The look on his face was once again lost and uncertain, his eyes telling to Quirin that not much had returned. He opened his mouth to speak, the man looking like he hoped for an answer, an epiphany, a realisation. But all Varian managed to say was a cautious "I'm sorry, sir... I... can't remember...".

The words stung in Quirin's heart, his son talking to him like he had a stranger in front of him. But not only this, Varian didn't remember anything. At least he told Quirin this. The father couldn't believe. "Not? Not a tiny bit?" His gaze wandered to the toy, the old thing that could have held so many memories. If even his beloved stuffed friend couldn't give him a little hint, what chance had Quirin to help him to remember? His brows furrowed and he looked sadly at the poorly sewed patch. Was there even a way to bring back his memory?

He shook his head, his shoulders slightly shrugging, looking a little remorseful at his despair. 'Poor guy...' he thought, near convinced that the boy the man was grieving for was long gone years ago, maybe along with his wife, that woman that had been labeled as his mother. It was hard to believe. All of it. That this man was his father yet they looked nothing alike, this house that he had never seen before being his home that he had lived in since he was born, another stranger that he could never meet being some loving parent that he had lost. He wanted to believe it, that he had already found his past, where he belonged, who he could trust. But he was reluctant, too scared to settle down just yet.

A huge lump formed in his throat, as the boy made certain that he hasn't remembered anything. It was like something was pulling on him, like he was drowning and he didn't even know were the surface was. He breathed out through his nose while he closed his eyes for a moment. With a gulp, he tried to get rid of this lump, yet the words didn't came out as collected as he had hoped. "Maybe... you'll remember a bit later." An awkward silence spread between both. Quirin hasn't achieved anything yet, Varian couldn't recall anything of the castle or the things Quirin told him. He didn't even believe his words. And worse, their resemblance was so tiny, the father understood that Varian would get wary over this. But how could he prove to him that he wasn't lying? Show him he had been here in this castle? Then, a thought struck the man. Of course! "Varian!" He was a bit excited over this new chance which even showed a bit in his voice. "I need to show you something."

Varian watched him, a bit stunned at the louder tone. Yet the man did not sound mad or desperate like before. But rather, hopeful or excited even. It was such an odd thing, yet he preferred this over the tension. "O-Okay! Sure..." he replied, knowing it'd be better not to go against the man's wishes when he wasn't being unreasonable or forceful. Besides, he might had something that could help the situation. He followed him, his big frame hiding what lied ahead, leaving the reveal in greater mystery.

Quirin walked with wide steps in front of him, his own room seemed suddenly so far away. He opened the door and stepped aside once he was in the room. "We have a family portrait." He was so glad he had remembered, the old drawing on the other side of the room, between two windows. The colors were not as bright as drawings in royal castles, but it was as huge as those. It showed a man and a woman, holding a baby in their arms, a warm and loving scene. The painter had captured their feelings very well, making the old man smile whenever he looked at it. Just like now. It was perfect. Varian should remember. Or at least believe him.

His blue eyes widened, mouth half opened, the picture striking something deep in his heart. A memory? Or was it a desire? Something he wished he had? He took a few steps forwards, the rest of the room almost dissolving and disappearing out of view. Just him and the family in front of him. He examined it. The man on the painting was also the man he had met in this castle, no doubt. A woman beside him, kind and gentle features, hair fiery and neatly tied up. And between them, held carefully in their arms, a baby, smiling in the safety of the scene. Both parents looking at him as if he were their whole world. He tilt his head a little, squinting at the small creature painted on the canvas. It had black hair and some freckles were visible too. Even the blue streak has present, taunting him with its mystery. Neither the woman nor the man looked anything like him. Yet they were looking at him with so much love and the child looked like the embodiment of happiness to be under their watch, secure in their embrace. Is this who he was? He wanted to reach out to touch the painting, as if his touch could reveal anything more, but he was afraid of how the man might react to this precious artifact being tempered with. Instead, his hand hovered over the child, retreating and falling, closing into a fist with a slow move. He didn't know if that was him. But he was certain for one thing. He wanted to be him. He wanted to be Varian, to be happy and safe and loved and cared for. A longing to be loved. Although by the man's words, these days were long behind them. But certainly, some of this former glory must have still existed, right? The man had clearly shown to care for him. Yet he could somehow feel the distance, even with his memories hidden and missing. Still, the portrait had sparked a small flame in his heart, a familiar warmth. He even dared to say, that he had began to believe the stranger.

Varian was drawn to the picture, walking to it like in a trance, his gaze glued to the scene it showed. Quirin had been right. It moved something in the boy, his eyes moving to each person, finally examining the baby boy in the middle. His fingers didn't touch the canvas, although it looked like he really wanted too. Maybe he had too much respect of this drawing, afraid he could destroy anything with his touch. Quirin felt suddenly how he had held his breath during the scene. He breathed out softly, certain the drawing had helped the boy at least a bit. He stepped carefully closer, leaving some space since he didn't want to alarm the child. "You have been some months old there. You smiled so brightly, I'm glad the painter was able to catch it." At this time their world had been perfect. It was bittersweet to look at it, he loved it so much, it reminded him and left a warm feeling in his chest. In the same way, like it reminded him of what he had lost. But Quirin could handle it, he had still someone precious to him, their son, their treasure, the boy in front of him that he wanted so dearly back. His eyes lay on his shoulder, hoping the child would turn around or talking with him about the drawing.

"I... " he tried to speak, at loss for words. What should he do now? Hold his defenses? Believe the man? Pretend that he remembers being his son even if none of his memories agreed to such a fact? He avoided the man's gaze to concentrate on his thoughts. He held his arms in a makeshift hug, trying to step away from the stranger as his eyes scanned the floor. He took in a deep breath, and finally spoke, clear and devoid of emotion. "Look, I want to believe you, I really do. What you are describing sounds- great. Of course I'd want to be part of a family, to belong somewhere. But- " he paused biting his lip a bit as he turned to look at him, his voice slightly quivering now. "I'm afraid you have the wrong person." he breathed out. "I don't know what happened to your son, and I'm sorry that he's not here right now, but- I... don't know if I am who you are looking for..." he admitted, part of him not wanting to reject the possibility completely.

Quirin listened to him, to every word, although each of them felt like daggers piercing his heart. Has the drawing not helped in the end? Zero? The same situation as before? Varian couldn't deny it further, could he? "Varian... Varian why are you doubting me? Do you think I'm blind? Insane even? You left some hours ago and I brought you back. How could I have mistaken someone else for my son?"

He watched as the man knelt before him, looking him straight in the eyes. Brown eyes, glassy and lost, trying to reach for something that was so close, yet so far. Varian felt his chest tightening, the sight of the man begging for his son to remember him being somewhat painful to watch. He gulped, the mention of the suspected 'insanity' making him feel a little guilty. He seemed to hurt listening to what the boy had to say, but it was the truth nevertheless. He wasn't going to stand there and lie, not when he needed the truth more than anything. "I- I don't know, sir... I'm sorry, I really don't! I wish I did know! But- I don't..." he felt his own eyes stinging a bit, lost and tired.

Quirin saw that the child had reached the limit. He would only say one last bit, didn't want to push too much. After a deep breath, he looked to the drawing. "If you can't remember yet, just look at the picture. Your freckles. Your hair. Even your streak. Please believe me, or believe what you see in this picture. You don't have to remember now. Just don't push it away. You will remember in the end." At least Quirin hoped it. He didn't want to give up. The memory must be somewhere, hidden, buried deep down. Maybe all it would take was some time.

It made him uneasy, how certain the man sounded, insisting that Varian will remember. But that desperation couldn't have been faked. He had made some good points, the portrait could not have been of anybody else. He gave it one more glance, then back at the man. He sighed, trying to calm down. This was all too much. And it was beginning to get colder too. Another snow storm approaching, it seemed. He braced himself more, stroking his arms to calm the shivers before they started showing. "Alright... say- say I do believe you... then what?" he asked, uncertain and tired. Even if he was this man's son, he still wouldn't know the first thing about being himself!

Varian gave in a bit, his posture still defensive, but his words more open. Quirin was glad they made a little step forward. "Just stay. Here in this castle. Do the things you like, play, just live. Like you would have with your memory. Ask questions if you'd like. I'll try my best to answer." Quirin wanted to help him. Varian was lost right now, no idea who he was. It must be an awful feeling. But the father could only do so if Varian let him.

He fidgeted with his hands, an old habit of his, still with him. "Well, I don't know how to live like I did before. So... if you could tell me?" he asked, hesitant, but he had nothing to lose. He had so many questions, like, what were his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, what was his favourite thing to do or his favourite spot to stay in the house? Was he an outdoors person? Who were his friends? So many things he needed to learn allover again. Hopefully, the man- his father, was going to be honest with him.

"Well..." Quirin hesitated. There was so much to tell... or, in some way, less. The last years, they hasn't been very close, each had their own things to do. They barely talked and only the meal times had been a fixed point where they met and even this, Quirin had to force some times, calling for Varian several times, even walking into his lab... Quirin's thoughts stopped. The lab. The place Varian had been the most of time. This place that Varian hid away, stayed on his own. The reason he didn't had friends or helped his dad, like he should. How could he raise him to be the next leader, if he kept hiding like this? And not only hiding, even putting his own life in danger. Fires, small explosions, holes in the clothing when an acid fell onto it. Only some strange kind of luck had let the boy walk away without a scratch so far. But how long would this continue? Varian had tended to test more dangerous things, the chaos Quirin had to drag him out had gotten wilder over the years. No. No more. He could change that. Make it better. Correct a mistake he had made in the past. Letting him try alchemy had only started an unbelievably dangerous hobby. Something he could just not mention. Quirin looked through the room, taking some more seconds to made up his mind. His gaze returned to Varian. "I can. If you like. What do you want to know?"

"E-everything! I want to know all there is to know about me, anything you can remember, even the smallest details. I-... I need to know who I was." he said, fully trusting his words now, or at least, putting all his faith in them. The man wouldn't lie to him, would he? He cared about him, he wouldn't lie to someone he cares about! Or at least, Varian couldn't think of a reason why he would. Fully unaware of his passion for alchemy and science. And even less aware of the destruction it had caused them. He didn't know who he was, but he could never expect his past to be the way it truly was.

Quirin nodded. "Good." His gaze lay on Varian's small arms, kept close to his body, a thing that he didn't do often, most of the time he gestured with them. Didn't he felt well? But due to the child's words, he had decided to trust him. So maybe some aftermath from the cold? His gaze was now more concerned. "But first tell me: how do you feel? Are you cold?"

It took him a moment, but Varian nodded, no longer busy being scared by that man. _His father_. He'd definitely need a little while to get used to this. "O-only a little." he replied afterwards, wanting to talk to him more, to warm up to him again. He didn't know how they were before, but he was his father, he must have loved him before too, right?

Quirin had known it. A bath would be best, but if he brought that up now it could end in a similar disaster again. He could reheat the water anytime. There must be another way to keep him warm for now and he eyed to the blanket. This should do the job. He took the blanket and placed it thoughtfully over the child's shoulders. "This should keep you warm." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the bed. "You could take a seat too."

"Thanks. A-And it's fine, I'm alright.... Where did I usually go? Like, where did I spend the most time of the day?" he asked, only one step closer to learning about Varian, about himself. He held onto the blanket, a little relieved with the warmth and even more relieved that the earlier subject of the bath had been dropped entirely.

Already the first question touched a sore spot. Quirin gave his best to sound believable. He would tell the truth. But just not everything. "You had many things you did. You've read a lot. Adventure things, history books, languages, you are very clever. You can recall the content easily too. This part you have from your mother. She read a lot. And she used to read your favourite books to you when you were little. You learned fast. In the end, you read the books to her and she was so proud of you when you got even difficult words."

The information made him smile a little. So he and his mother were close. And he liked-, likes reading. That was a start. "Do you maybe know where my books are?" he asked, still trying to remain polite and 'professional', maintaining the distance for now. He didn't remember which books he liked or even which ones he liked reading most. Most importantly, did he even remember how to read?! He wasn't sure, but, he must have, otherwise, he would have to learn that too!

"Some of them are here in your room. Some are around the house, I can collect them for you. Also..." Quirin tried to think about how he could avoid to show him a broad variation of alchemy books. The pure amount of it would be suspicious, maybe they would also awaken his interest in the theme again. There were probably some books about it in his room too, but he almost doubted it, the majority must be in the lab. But he told him he read much, a fact that was true, but with just a few books in the house he wouldn't believe him. He needed another source. "We can borrow some from the library too." It was a welcome thing, this would not only give them a chance to travel together, but also let him interact with people.

"There's a library in old Corona?" he asked, a little intrigued by the idea of books. The more he dueled on it, the more it felt right. Books. Yeah, it rang a bell. He even managed to remember the name of the place they were in. Might be the fact that he was repeating any bit of information he was given, over and over in his mind. 'My name is Varian, I live in old Corona of the Corona kingdom. My father is the leader of the village and his name is Quirin. I'm thirteen years old and I like books.' he repeated like a mantra whenever he could, now. He didn't want to forget, he mustn't! He couldn't afford to forget again. Part of him feared that all of his memories were forever wiped away. What if he was never going to be the same?

"Well not in Old Corona, but in the capital of Corona. Our village here has much land, but not so many people and institutions. We are farmers and produce a big part of the foods of the kingdom. It's a very important role to serve the king and the whole kingdom." Quirin decided to give him more details about the surrounding too, the boy didn't have to ask for every tiny bit of information. This time Quirin would raise him right, maybe he could even make the work on the fields more interesting. The father didn't simply delegate, he worked there himself, knew many tricks, had the knowledge to see if plants were ill or the ground caused problems. Animals, insects, the weather, there was so much to learn. It would be just to the boy's advantage to know all this stuff.

"We have a king? Well- it's a kingdom, of course we'd have royalty ruling, but- What is he like? Is he good? Have you met him? What's the queen like? Is there a queen?" he suddenly started talking more again, his interest intrigued by all the things he used to know. Varian's respect for royalty was returning in him. Quirin had raised him this way, had even taught him the proper way to bow. Some part of him was trying to come out again and had taken control by asking all these questions.

Quirin was a bit surprised by this sudden outburst of curiosity, but he was glad to see his son like this again, flourishing before his eyes. A smile spread on his lips while he started to give him answers. "Yes, I have met the king, several times even. I give report over the state of the harvest or travel to court to suggest points that involve the future of Old Corona." Pride swung in his words, he loved his role and he would always do his best to serve the people well. The king might sometimes have other priorities, but he was a good man. "The king listens well to his folk. He gives the people audiences, hearing their pleas and suggestions. Not every king cares this much." His eyes softened as he recalled a scene. "You have seen the king too, but you were too little to remember, anyway. We had been in Corona to make the portrait and I showed you to the king. You looked at him with wide eyes and stretched your arms to him." The man saw the scene right before his eyes, his son curious and beaming at every new thing he saw. "The queen was enchanted by your behaviour. She is a quiet woman, but when she says something, it is nice and thoughtful."

Varian listened carefully, taking mental notes, the royals sounded like good people, a feeling somewhere in the back of his mind being confirmed, as if he already knew that. Maybe he did. Regardless, it was another helpful step at orienting himself in this new-old world. "And besides the king, did we also go to the capital often? Or is it too far from here? Is it big? Are there many people? Well- it has to be bigger than the village to be the capital, but then again I don't know-. Did I like it there? Do I even like to travel? Was I an outdoors or an indoors person?" he rambled again, the questions firing one after the other. Still so much left for him to find out. So much to learn about himself. He could only hope the man remembered everything and could keep up with this storm of questions. Varian watched him with a spark in his eyes, depending on his words now.

"Well not this often, but we can go there more often if you like. You preferred staying here. You had been indoors and outdoors, whatever you wanted to do. The capital is big, placed on an island, it's connected with the coast, you can travel over a bridge to get there. The times you came with me you liked it." Quirin tried to answer all his questions, as good as he could think of. He stayed to the truth as much as possible, he loved his son the way he was. There was just this dangerous hobby that had changed him, had taken over all his interest. But Varian was an overall curious child and he would find something else instead, Quirin was sure. He just had to be careful to not let him fall again for this alchemy stuff.

"Did I have any favourite spots? What are the people there like? Did we have any friends there? Relatives?! Do- Do I have any other family?" he asked again, curious to meet them all again. And friends, he must have had friends! At least one! Right? He couldn't have just been in the house all day by himself, that would be ridiculous!

"You liked the library of course. And there is a marvelous sweet store. Oh, and I often visit the blacksmith, you were fascinated by his work and watched whenever we were there." The boy had loved the red shine of the hot metal and the fact that a talented person could form anything of a simple bar of steel. Quirin had kept an eye on the boy, the child more than one time way too close to the flames or the hot metal. Before he started to drift off, he looked back to the portrait. "Relatives? Well, some of your mother's side, but we are not in touch. Unfortunately, there are none of your grandparents left." Quirin had never felt lonely about this fact, even if the time while raising Varian had been stressful. But maybe some other persons in the boy's life had helped. Now, he felt almost sad he couldn't tell him there were no other family.

"O-oh... What about friends? Did I have any?" he asked, the man having forgotten to answer that one. If he didn't have any relatives left, he must at least had people he liked spending time with. He was also told that he was interested in the blacksmith's work. He could almost picture it, the idea of making things and tinkering seeming almost as appealing as the reading, maybe more. He almost wanted to go try it out. Even if he had never tried before. The need to create and learn was slowly taking root again.

"Friends..." Quirin tried to remember, but he couldn't recall anyone. But he couldn't say that bluntly, could he? Varian looked at him in anticipation, sure his father would tell him some names. Names he couldn't combine with anyone yet, but their existence alone was important. It was tempting to reassure the child, tell him he had friends. But Quirin couldn't do that. Those friends would never show up and Varian would be devastated. No, he couldn't let this happen. A vague answer would be the best now, he decided. "You didn't invite someone here, but you went out to play, I'm sure you played with the village children."

"Oh... I see. Are there many kids my age here?" he asked, trying to recall those friends of his so badly, blaming the memory loss for his inability to do so. He didn't even remember his own parents, of course he couldn't recall his friends. He was willing to give it time, hoping that maybe he'd remember them once he saw them and talked to them and played with them. But, if his own father couldn't bring back his memories-. He paused his thoughts, trying to think positively. There had to be something that could make him remember himself.

This was an easy question for Quirin. For once he didn't have to think long about an answer. "Some. The miller has two boys around your age and there are also three farmer boys and a girl which are just a bit older. The others are way younger, but I see them sometimes playing with the older children too, since the parents told them to look after their younger siblings." As a leader he knew about them, but he had never seen Varian with them. Maybe he should talk with the villagers, telling them Varian had lost his memory and asked them to make sure the children would be nice to his son. Perhaps he would now find actual friends? Once he was interested enough to seek for them?

None of it rang a bell, hardly even remembering there were other kids, even when his memory was there. But still, he hoped that meeting them will remind him something. Something important about himself. He gave it some thought and finally spoke again. "Can- Can I go see them?" he asked, a little scared by something he couldn't yet pin down. A feeling that this was a bad idea, but he needed to know, he needed to see the things and people and places he cared about. So much so that he completely ignored the fact that when Quirin spoke about them, he never said Varian definitely played with them or was involved in their lives, as if he were always an outsider.

Varian's voice sounded insecure, probably scared of the idea to meet more strangers. But he also probably knew that there was no other way than facing them. But this was too early, Quirin should talk with the parents first. He smiled at the boy. "Yes, you can see them. But right now, it's not a good idea, the storm hasn't calmed down yet and you need to warm up. Everyone does this now, sitting together in front of the fire."

He glanced at the corner, a little uncertain, but he saw no harm in asking. "Can we do that too?" his voice was low, but pleading, hoping that spending time with him was going to help him remember. Maybe all he needed was time and the right things around him. He held tighter onto the blanket around him, still a bit cold.

Finally, Varian asked a question that warmed Quirin's heart. Of course he wanted to, he was glad the boy stopped being this defensive. His eyes radiated the relief that spread in his chest. "Yes, yes I would love to." He took some steps forward, waiting if the child to follow.

Varian gave a smile and followed behind him, a little timidly, but it didn't feel wrong. Besides, he needed to stay near a fire, some logical part in his mind insisting on it. He walked to the fireplace with him, always with the blanket on him.

"Here you go." Quirin placed some big pillows in front of the fire. He invited the boy to take a seat at them. It still felt awkward to guide him around like this, Varian would just have grabbed a pillow and placed it wherever he would like to sit. At the moment, the boy was a stranger in his own home. But Quirin didn't want to drag himself down, it would just take some time! He looked around to see if he could do anything, if something was missing. Some thought crossed his mind. "Do you want something warm to drink? Some tea or hot chocolate?"

The boy sat down a little reluctantly, but definitely feeling safer with the man's presence now. He wasn't going to hurt him. That much he was fairly sure about. Then the question came up and he took a moment. There was only one way to settle this choice. "Well... What would I normally ask for?" he said, looking for every opportunity he could to ask about his old self.

Quirin gave it some thought. The boy drank both, but tea mostly when being ill. Whenever he had the chance, he had asked for hot chocolate, it was like a sweet treat for him. The father explained it to Varian, he also mentioned how the boy had always looked forward to his time of the year, not only for playing in the snow, but also the cozy moments afterwards. In the end, he added another aspect. "But your throat is not sore, right? In this case I would rather brew some tea for you."

"No, my throat fine. Thank you... Hot chocolate sounds nice." he mumbled the last bit, mostly to himself, almost remembering this feeling a little bit. The fire, his father there, the snow outside. He could have sworn he had seen that again so very recently. It couldn't be a coincidence. He curled up by the fire, in the blanket more, the warmth making him somewhat sleepy.

"Okay, I'll prepare you hot chocolate. I'll be back soon." The father gave him a last look, checking if the child would be alright. It seemed like he could leave him alone. Varian wouldn't ran away. He had settled for now, no longer this wary. Quirin walked out of the room, closing the door with a quiet sound. Once he was alone, a soft sigh escaped him, the whole situation had stressed him, this short moment felt like a break he had needed desperately. With wide steps, he walked over to the kitchen, he would prepare some really good hot chocolate for the boy, giving him a new memory, a good one, he could remember.

Varian waited, looking around with curious eyes, scanning and examining everything in the room. The big fireplace with the burning fire, the wooden floors that stretched all over the house, the stone on the walls, he could have sworn he had never seen them before, yet it felt right to see them there, to be within these walls, like it was his own little fortress. Where the coldness of the outside world could not harm him. It was so odd. Feeling like a stranger. Or rather, a ghost, intruding this house to haunt it with his uncertain presence. To make it his own. He wanted it to be his own, the more he learned, the more he stayed. He found he had warmed up to it quickly. There had to be some truth to that feeling, then, right?

Quirin had never made a hot chocolate this diligent. The scent of the dark liquid soon filled the room, a welcoming smell, that Varian would surely love. The father had prepared two mugs. Usually, he preferred tea, but this time, he wanted to share the moment of enjoying the same beverage. He was glad he had bought some cookies some days ago, now taking the tin also with him. He walked back slowly, careful to not spill any of it. Before stepping in, he reminded himself to knock, Varian would probably appreciate it.

He snapped his head to the sound and after a moment, he remembered what to do. "Come in!" he called, even forgetting something simple like that for a minute. Manners weren't exactly essential at the moment when there were more important things going on after all.

Quirin waited until he got the permission, then he opened the door while balancing all the things in his hands. "I'm back." The father bowed down to place the things on the floor, the mugs too heated to hold them from somewhere other than the handle. "Be careful, it's hot. Don't burn your tongue." He crouched down, taking a seat on a pillow next to the boy. The air was much warmer here, the pleasant heat touching his skin on the arms and the face. He wouldn't admit it, but the cold wind had also cooled him down, the warmth felt good, giving him back his normal body temperature. His gaze lingered some seconds onto the dancing flames, as he remembered the tin box. "Oh..." He turned a bit and picked up the box. "I also brought some cookies." After he had opened it, he placed it between them, his gaze now placed on the child's face. How would he react? Did he feel comfortable? He couldn't allow himself to make more mistakes.

"Thank you." he said quietly. The boy gave a smile, thankful and calm, taking the mug carefully. He nearly burned himself, however, taking his hand away with a hiss before he could lift the mug. "You weren't kidding, it is hot." he commented, trying to lighten the mood. "If only I had some gloves." he added with a chuckle and picked it up more carefully now, unsure how he thought of that as a solution this quickly. Come to think of it, seeing his hands to be bare and ungloved, seemed somewhat abnormal. As if that's not what he was used to. He brushed it off, knowing that his mind was jumbled up as it was.

Quirin forced himself to a smile, hiding his surprise the boy had mentioned gloves out of the blue. He looked down to his own gloved hands, the heat hasn't bothered him. "Gloves are really handy. Your winter gloves were damp and cold from the storm, they need to dry first. But maybe you want some leather gloves too? We could buy a pair at the market next time." The father picked up the mug and sipped a bit on it, letting the heated liquid run down his throat. He didn't want to mention his lab gloves, the leather used and stained, the worn out surface would bring questions up and maybe even chemicals had left some stains. No, he should get new ones if he liked. Some small and fitting ones, not such huge working gloves.

Varian nodded happily, pleased with the suggestion. "Thanks... I mean, I'm not sure how they could come in handy specifically but, I like them. I like the ones you have!" he commented, taking a careful sip of the hot chocolate, the taste sweet and somewhat familiar. He also took a cookie, a little reluctant to reach out, but he fought it. It wouldn't make sense to hesitate to accept food in his own house, would it? He felt safe and welcome here, now. The big building, no longer intimidating him. He could even say, he could call this place home. And the man, he could maybe try to call him dad, still getting used to his parent.

"Well..." Quirin smiled while talking. "Handy in such situations like handling a hot mug." This was definitely not the reason the father wore the gloves in the first place, but Varian didn't need to know now. He was barely convinced about being his son, the Dark Kingdom was no theme that should be brought up anytime soon. The last comment let him look at his own gloves, black and large. Varian's lab gloves had looked like Quirin's. Had the child felt the same some years earlier? Happy his own gloves looked like his father's one? It was a thought that left a warm feeling. He looked back into blue eyes. "If you like, we can search for such gloves. I'm sure we will find similar ones."

He chuckled quietly, observing him. His eyes still on the gloves. Something he couldn't understand was drawing him to them, as if he has his own or wanted a pair his entire life. "Can... Can I try them on?" he asked, a little puzzled as to why the man still wore them. He might have done some heavy work earlier, he did mention he was the village leader after all. Even without the title, he seemed like the type of person to do heavy work, his build big and sturdy, especially compared to the boy he had seen in the mirror earlier.

The mood has lightened, Varian was even chuckling. Quirin looked at the child, far more relaxed than before. Then, the question came and Quirin stiffed a bit up at it. The gloves? The father was unsure, looking at the leather. The brotherhood mark hid under it, his secret. He would have preferred to keep it that way. But refusing his ask would only make him look suspicious. There was no logical reason to deny him this. Quirin slipped out of the gloves, handing them to the boy, his palms turned upward to hide the mark, even while his hands were bare. "Here. They are too big for you, but do you like the leather? We could ask for this sort."

Varian slipped the gloves on easily, his hands too small compared to Quirin's. They were warm and pretty comfortable. He watched his hands smiling, until eventually, it faded, his mind working to bring a memory back to the surface. It was an odd feeling. Looking at his hands, the black gloves on them, the texture, even their size, it all felt close to home. He watched as if he was putting a puzzle together, a realisation so close to surfacing, making a breakthrough, yet there was a wall, thin but persistent. He couldn't tell why, but he felt really comfortable with them, as if he had just found a piece of himself.

Quirin saw the change of expression, the boy suddenly deep in thoughts. Could it be? Could the gloves bring back some memory, a task Quirin had tried for a while now with no success? And those worn out gloves made the difference, opened a door? Unluckily, the wrong one! Varian shouldn't remember this part, the explosions, the fires, the accidents. He needed to interfere before it was too late. "Way too big of course. You need smaller ones to work properly with them. But we will find fitting ones."

With a small gasp, he snapped out of it, looking at Quirin as he registered the words. "Yeah- Yeah, of course." he hurried, taking them off and giving them back, part of him not wanting to give them to their owner just yet. He liked wearing them. It felt... right. Like it was part of him. There was also the other thing, their warmth, feeling as if someone was holding his hand. He wasn't ready to give them back, but it seemed the man wanted them.

Quirin took the gloves and slipped back into them. He felt a lot more comfortable now, the mark again, hidden. He didn't have to be careful with his hand anymore, he could move it again freely. It seemed like everything went well. As a kind of reward, he sipped again on the chocolate. Maybe he should change the subject, away from the gloves that were way too close to alchemy. "Do you like the hot chocolate?"

"Yeah, it's really good!" he replied, remembering to take another sip of his drink while it was still warm. The big gulp causing a mustache to appear on his lips. He stared at Quirin with a slight smile, thankful for taking care of him so far. But now there was a small, awkward gap, nothing to talk about. He had many questions, but wasn't sure where to begin with any of them. Previously, they just appeared in the conversation.

The milk mustache made Quirin hum amused and he fished a tissue out of the bag on his belt, holding it out to the child. "Here. Over your lips..." Varian was old enough to do it himself. Also the father had seen how the boy reacted when he felt uncomfortable.

He tilted his head a little and took the tissue, wiping his mouth with a wide motion. "It's gone now, right?" he asked, looking at him with those blue eyes, still lost, still uncertain, but he wanted to put in the effort, trying to act normal instead of a lost child with no memories. Right now, he was Varian, son of Quirin and they were spending some time together in their house in old Corona. It almost sounded too good to be true, but it felt just right.

Quirin nodded, the child's face was clean again. He could almost see the quiet question in his eyes. 'What to do next?' The father was himself unsure. They haven't been this close the last years and the few times they met, they had their usual conversations. Which was almost none. Once, a time were Varian had been little, it had been a lot easier. The child bubbly with questions or he had demanded the father's attention. Varian hasn't been a quiet child. It was against his nature. Seeing him now so insecure was a weird sight, the father was the one who had to lead the conversation. But Quirin would try his best, he could handle this. "The mustache reminded me on all the paint you once had on your face. Drawing is another thing you like. You are very talented."

"I am?" he asked, a little bashfully at the compliment. He couldn't possibly know If the man- his father, was simply being nice or he meant it. 'Drawing, huh?' he thought, another fact to add to his little list. "Can I see my drawings?" he asked straight after, really curious to see what he was capable of, but also what caught his eye, what he liked to draw, how he viewed the world. Maybe it could give him a few more clues.

Quirin had tried so hard to create a good topic to talk, that he hasn't thought about the consequences. He scolded himself internally, Varian's drawings were just more plans for inventions. He had drawn things from nature too, long ago, when he was little. Sketches Quirin could show him without problems. But they were far away from his praising words, talented for a five year old, but not for someone who was thirteen. What should he do? He looked at Varian, the boy really curious. "Well, I could bring some of them here. But maybe you could try it out right away? I'll give you some paper and a pencil and you see for yourself what you can do? Surprise yourself?"

He nodded in compromise, shrugging a little. "Sounds like a plan." he replied and took another sip from his hot chocolate. He had gotten very comfortable, the warmth of everything, even the father's voice, it all made him drowsy, as if he were in a dream. He clutched the blanket more, sighing in bliss, nearly wanting to lie down on the pillow and sleep in front of the fire.

"Good, let's do this." Quirin got up, walking for the stuff he had suggested. He didn't has to leave the room, the items stored in a small desk, a place where Quirin used to write letters or made notes. Some moments later, he returned, putting the things down on the floor in front of the child, before he took a seat again. He was glad Varian hadn't insisted to look at his old drawings. All his plans should be in the lab, the place where he had almost lived the whole time in. As long as this door stayed closed for him, Quirin could avoid this topic. A bit curious what Varian would draw now, he shifted his gaze to the paper and to the boy.

Varian shifted the paper in a landscape angle and held the pencil in his hands, hunching over the paper a little. He stared at it a little, biting his lip as he tried to think of what to draw. He was unsure, his mind blank for a moment. He knit his brows together and sighed. Finally, he started moving his hand, not really thinking, just letting the graphite glide and leave marks on the white sheet. It went on for a little, until he finally stopped. The picture didn't make a lot of sense. There were gears and bolts and weirdly shaped pieces, assembled together in some sort of caricature of a cross section. A couple of beakers and ingredients with no name here and there. It looked like some sort of work space, yet the objects on the drawn desk made little to no sense to him.

Quirin gulped as he realized _what_ Varian was drawing. This couldn't be, he... he had lost his memory, everything. Why did the alchemy come back to his mind? Why did this stuff appear on the paper so easily when the boy struggled for so long to even believe a word from Quirin? It hurt. So much that tears stung in his eyes. His vision went blurry for a second, but he blinked those stupid tears away. He needed to say something, anything, even though his throat felt like he wouldn't be able to talk. "See... you have such precise strokes, it looks like an illustration."

The boy was smiling, until he met the man's gaze and the sound of his voice shook him a little. He sounded... emotional. As if he were at the brink of a breakdown. "Dad, are you okay-?" he asked, the words leaving him so naturally, yet it stunned him when he realised what he had called him. Not that it was the wrong way to address him. But he didn't even need to think. The words just escaped before he could even form them in his mind. He looked away and closed his mouth. It was a bit of a shock to him, to say the least. How easy it felt to say it, and yet, he still felt a bit distant to him, uncertain if it'd be okay to call him 'dad'.

The worried voice of his son let the man look up, his eyes had been glued on the paper. But he wasn't able to make eye contact, the boy's face already turned away. But maybe it was for the best, Quirin's expression still a bit too emotional. Varian's call had helped him, it felt like a plaster for his heart. He had called him _dad_. Without urging him to call him so, the boy had simply said it and Quirin couldn't be happier. "I'm okay son. I'm okay." He tried to reassure him, the boy was certainly confused now. "I just... love how well you draw."

Varian wasn't quite convinced, his voice still emotional. At least he had not made any fuss about the earlier slip-up. He just nodded and kept looking away. It had become awkward again, uncertain of how to respond, what to say, what to do. He feared that he might make a mistake any minute. An urge to flee was taking over him. His gaze led itself to a closed door, one that Quirin had not showed him while they were touring the house. "What's behind that door?" he pointed, the door feeling somewhat well-known to him, as if he had seen it many times.

Quirin's gaze followed the gesture and ended on the heavy lab door. The man felt suddenly sick. Why did the boy have to ask now, right after he had earned such a kick in his stomach? It was like this damn alchemy would be everywhere, in this house and even in the boy's mind, like something would pull him into the wrong direction and Quirin couldn't stop him. But he must. He simply had to. Save him from this thing that seemed to have occupied his mind more than a thing should do. He had to sound natural now, even if he lied. A thing he usually didn't do. His voice was steady as he spoke up. "This door? Well, there is nothing interesting there. Just a storage room of mine. It's just an old basement."

"Oh..." he said, almost disappointed. He had hoped for another answer, something more... interesting. Something that would give him an answer for who he is. Guess he made a wrong, bet this time. He looked back that scribbles on the paper, then at the door again, his mind drawing a faint connection, unable to ignore it, yet he didn't show it. Maybe he was just confused. But it was worth a try. "Are you sure there's nothing there that might remind me something?" he asked again, looking at him with big, pleading eyes.

It was almost like Varian would _know_ it. His gaze was steady, genuinely hoping Quirin had just forgotten and would suddenly remember something important that would hide behind the door. The father felt awful, truly awful. Those bright blue eyes glued on him, waiting for an answer, expecting nothing else than the truth. Quirin's heart beat faster while he forced himself to say the wrong, yet right words. He had to. It was for Varian. Once he had started, the sentences left his lips much steadier than he had expected. "Yes, I'm sure. Just some old stuff from me, nothing that could help you." He took the mug and drank a bit, hoping Varian would not insist to peek into the room. Although the man didn't look in the direction, he could somehow feel the presence of this damn door and the room behind it, looming at his back, like to remind him how thin the ice he was standing on, was. This lab would reveal everything, remind Varian in an instant about this stuff. Did a key for this door exist? Quirin's mind raced, trying to remember. The man didn't lock much, only sometimes the doors that lead to the outside, but most of the time, all the doors were open. Locking a door _inside_ was a thing he hasn't thought of in years. Where would the keys be? He took a cookie and bit into it, checking mentally the rooms while chewing. And then he remembered. In the other, the real storage room! The ring of keys must be there, on a nail behind the door, mostly hidden for someone who doesn't search for it. That's it! That's the solution! He simply would lock it, making sure Varian would never step into it again.

He sighed and pouted a little, his gaze dropping. He had hoped so badly that something could remind him. He yawned, covering his mouth. The tranquility of the room lulling him into sleep. The sweet crackling of the fire sounding like a lullaby, his eyes heavy, the rest of his body feeling heavy as well. He gathered his remaining energy, hesitating just a little. "Dad...? If the storm calms down, can we go see my friends tomorrow?" he asked, leaning a little into Quirin.

Varian was already drowsy, letting the theme of the door slip and asking for his friends again. Quirin welcomed this change. "Of course." The atmosphere was more relaxed again, tiredness settled in. Varian came even closer, a big difference to the last hours. Quirin was so glad about it, even if his heart felt a bit heavy, the lie still lingering there, calling out to him, stating the fact he wasn't honest to his son. But still, he felt happiness as the boy approached a bit and he shoved the accusing voice in the back of his mind. Everything would turn out well. He would have loved to enjoy the moment longer, but he knew that the boy should better rest properly. "Varian?" His voice was a soft mumble. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

The boy shook his head and leaned onto Quirin more, his head now resting on the man's arm. "No, I'll just close my eyes for a second... and then... I'll wake up..." he trailed off, getting more tired the more he let go of himself, finally falling asleep with a yawn. The stress of it all had really tired him out, and now, he was finally feeling able to rest. Knowing that his father was nearby, that he could trust him, that he would help him remember himself. A sense of security, so familiar yet so distant, was engulfing him, feeling safer than before.

Quirin felt how the little head finally rested completely on his arm, how the boy fell asleep and leaned even more onto him. The father's gaze softened, looking down at his son, softly breathing with a relaxed expression in his face. Varian had experienced so much today, too much for a child. All the exhaustion finally claimed a tribute, his sleep came fast and deep. Quirin waited some minutes to make sure he wouldn't wake him again, before he scooped up the child carefully and brought him to bed. To keep him warm, he not only put the boy's regular blanket over him, but also the one out of Quirin's room, his mother's blanket, which was still over his shoulders. He even wrapped him a bit, making sure the heat wouldn't escape on the edges. With his head placed onto a soft pillow, he looked truly comfy, a sight which warmed Quirin's heart. He stroked one last time over the child's hair, a gentle move to say goodnight, before he retreated. Before he went to bed himself, he walked down the stairs again, finding the keys on the place he had recalled. The clang as he finally put the key into the lock and turned it was both, relieving and stressful at once. He tested to open the door just to be safe and it didn't move. Now it was really locked away. He took the keys with him, he would put them into his chest, the chest which held all his secrets. Now he had one more to hide.

The night passed peacefully, Varian sleeping with no disturbances for the most part. If only for the things he had seen today, replaying in his head as nonsensical sequences. His mind trying so hard to make some sense of the things he had learned. Finally, he found himself in a big room. It looked just like the rest of the house, stone walls and the same stone floor. Desks and shelves all over the place. And colourful liquids in beakers and bits and pieces in jars. Tools of various shapes and sizes, metal bits that were shaped and broken and cut in odd ways, resembling something that was clearly unfinished and rough. He took a good look around, then he looked at his hands, the black leather gloves covering them, just like yesterday night by the fire. They felt comfortable, as if they belonged there. As if _he_ belonged in that room. On the walls, he also caught sketches and what he could only describe as diagrams, cross-sections and assembly plans. Just like the sketch he had drawn off the top of his head. He went to take more steps towards the new discovery, but before he could make progress, he found himself waking up, the light entering the room and pulling him out of his slumber. His head was aching, and the vivid dream began to disappear from his memory, unable to hold onto it for more than a few minutes. He was in his room, the sight comforting. Not lost in the snow or waking up in a house he couldn't recognise. Part of him was afraid that would be the case. He got out of the bed, a blanket still over his shoulders, still cold, and went out of his room, walking almost aimlessly as he tried to remember where the kitchen lied.

Quirin was already awake, preparing some breakfast. The snowstorm had settled overnight, the snow covering the ground outside, like a white blanket. The baker would open soon and he had planned to buy some new bread and treats and also visit the villagers with kids to inform them over Varian's state. But now, it was too early and he didn't want to bother the people too much. Varian could wait a bit, maybe he could motivate him to read a book first. For now, the man was busy with cutting the remaining bread, as well as placing some jam and plates along with cutlery on the table. He set up some tea too, the child would need a healthy drink for sure, even if it is just as a precaution. The father hoped he hasn't caught a cold yesterday. While the water heated up at one place of the stove, he took a frying pan and started to cook some eggs.

The smell was an undeniable hint for the location of the kitchen, leading him like a trail in the air. There, he found, Quirin, making breakfast for the both of them, some of it already set on the table. He walked with careful steps inside, the blanket still around him, hair a mess. "Morning!" he chirped and walked in a bit further, taking a seat at his usual spot, the habit commanding him unconsciously.

Quirin turned around, the frying pan still holding onto the stove. "Good morning!" He noticed the blanket around the kid's shoulders. "Are you cold?" It worried him a bit that Varian might be ill. He waited for a moment, letting the child respond first.

"No, I'm- I'm good." he tried to say, not wanting to worry him. Besides, he had promised him they'd go see his friends today. Hopefully, he could gain some info from them too. He was both nervous and excited, he didn't know them, but he was so certain that they'd be as nice as his father, maybe even nicer! They could talk and play and he could find out so much about who he was! Today was going to be great, he was sure of it, he couldn't let Quirin think that he was ill. "What's for breakfast?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Varian tried to reassure him. The father scanned him after those words, looking at his face and forehead. It doesn't look like he was heated or sweating. This should be enough for now, the child's interest already drawn to the food. "I'm about to make scrambled eggs, they'll soon be ready. Bread with jam is already on the table, if you like some cheese or sausages just tell me. Butter is also there. Oh, and I made some tea." The water was heated enough, he filled it into the tea pot and placed it onto the table before returning to the frying pan.

"Wow... All that, for me?" he asked, well aware that it was a breakfast for two, but it still felt odd being included. He couldn't help but smile a little as he reached out to the bread, looking at the jam on it, getting hungrier just at the sight. It felt like too much, even for two people. Maybe the man- his father (he still couldn't get that quite right) was the type to eat a lot in the morning. He couldn't remember, but he'd most likely find out. He took a bite, the taste sweet and poking at his memory. He remembered that taste. "...This jam is from the capital... from a traveling vendor... your favourite one too... right?" he mumbled, afraid that he was just talking nonsense, that the memory was mere misconception and his mind confusing things.

Quirin's eyes went wide as he heard that. He froze for a heartbeat, the grip on the frying pan got stronger. This... was correct! Varian had remembered another thing! It was something random, yet he felt so glad. He turned around after he had put the eggs onto a plate. "You are right, Varian." His voice was tinted with hope, he was right, his son would remember, piece by piece. He placed the plate close to the boy, he should have a big breakfast today, he hasn't eat much yesterday and he needed some strength too. With a satisfied expression, he took a seat and poured some tea into Varian's mug, before he also filled his own.

His blue eyes lit up, he was right about something! He recalled correctly! It was small and random and not very helpful information, but it was undeniably progress! And he did it all by himself! He could only hope the more major memories would also come back, they had to. If he could recall something this minor, his other memories should be somewhere there too. "Thank you, sir-... dad..." he tried to say, only to slip up again. At least he tried to correct himself. Hopefully the man wouldn't take offense to it. He was still re-adjusting after all. He started eating the eggs and gulped on the tea. Quickly feeling full and ready to get on with other things.

Quirin heard the 'sir' of course and it still hurt a bit in his heart, but he didn't show it. It was not Varian's fault or his intention to hurt him. He just needed some time and the father would grant him this for sure. Both ate in silence, a familiar scene. It was almost funny how easily they fell back into this habit. But Quirin appreciated this small break, the last conversations often felt like a balancing act, and he had almost fallen several times. The kid ate fast and looked around after some time, signalling the father that the boy wanted to do other things than sitting longer on this table. Quirin gulped down the last piece of his bread before he addressed him. "Varian, how about this: I go into the village and buy some new bread while you are reading one of your books? After this, I can bring you to the miller, inviting you to his sons?"

Varian was a little disappointed to hear that, impatient to meet those mystery friends of his. But, there was time, he could wait, couldn't he? He didn't want to come off as too demanding. And besides, maybe he could find something in his books. So he obliged with a small, forced smile. "Sure. We can do that..." he said, unsure if he should get out of his chair, with no real objective to go to.

It was a pleasant surprise that Varian agreed this fast to his father's suggestion. Quirin nodded gladly and stood up to clean the table, he didn't want to let Varian wait long. "I'll be back soon, don't worry." He grabbed a basket and walked on, before he passed Varian, he halted and ruffled the child's hair. He gave him a small smile while doing this. The father would give his best to inform the parents, ensuring the boy had a great day. Then, he walked away, waving one last time before leaving the kitchen. Some moments later, the front door closed with a soft thud.

The boy was left all alone, watching the man leave. He kind of liked how he ruffled his hair, a certain familiarity to the action. But the moment was quickly over and Varian was now in this huge house, all by himself. He got up and began wandering around. _Books._ Quirin had suggested his books. They were in his room, if he was correct. So he headed there, careful steps up the stairs and down the hall. He reached his room and immediately went to the shelf. There, he found a stack of books neatly put together. Old story books, the type a parent would read to their child to put them to sleep. He picked one up and read the cover. 'The adventures of Flynnigan Rider: book 4' was written in a fancy font, the ink almost shining gold. He opened it, and began to read, the names and locations and events, he had seen them somewhere before, even if he himself had never been on an island surrounded by pirates. Neither was he a dashing young adult with a lot of money, going on adventures for the fun of it. But the more he read, the more he felt he had re-lived these adventures, like he had fantasized about them time and time again in the past. He got lost in the pages fairly quickly, his full interest on the story.

Quirin trudged through the snow with a medium pace, leaving the first trail in the white surface. The village was not far away and he soon reached the bakery. The fresh and cold winter air mixed with the warm and welcoming scent of fresh bread. The small bell rang a second time as he left the bakery again, his basket filled not only with a big loaf of bread, but also many small treats. Some of the children were very young and a sweet treat would convince them surely more than some friendly words. He breathed in deeply as he reached the first house, his fist hovering some heartbeats in front of the wood, before he finally knocked determined. They would understand. They would certainly support him and his son. In the end, he was a child in need.

Varian continued to read, losing all track of time, lost in his book, enjoying every page as if it was the first time he read it. It did puzzle him though, where were the other books? Maybe somewhere else in the house. He thought he'd remember later. Only a curtain coming to mind when trying to think of their possible location. In the meantime, he thought of what this 'Flynn Rider' guy looked like. He imagined him tall and well built, but not as broad as his father, brown hair and maybe some fuzz on his chin. He couldn't quite land the nose, many possibilities shifting in his mind. But a clear picture nevertheless, a poster of some sort. It did make him wonder if it was someone he had met before and was simply making associations now. Either way, he was enjoying this time by himself. So much so, that the plan to meet the other kids completely left his mind.

Quirin had been successful. At least he felt this way. The families had reacted with positive words, ensuring the farther they would do their best to help. To some children, he had even talked in person, a little girl, usually shy, had come to him with bright eyes as she smelled the treats. While she had bitten happily into a piece Quirin had gave her, the man explained her with easy words the situation and she nodded, her cheeks filled and rosy, but with a serious look in her eyes like she had accepted an important task. Quirin hasn't been this lucky with the miller boys, they were in the forest with their father to gather some wood. But the mother reassured him, all of them would return soon and she would talk to them. So the father could return with a good feeling, knowing the villagers stuck together, helping him in this hard time. He stomped in front of the door, freeing his boots from the majority of snow. With a loud "Varian, I'm back!" he announced his return, walking further into the hallway while waiting for a response.

The boy almost jolted at the sound of his father's voice, snuggled up in his bed, reading as he was getting to the best part. "O-oh, hi, dad!" it took him a moment to think of a response and he scrambled up, nearly tripping over the blankets. He hurried downstairs, waiting for their next course of action to be confirmed. Part of him just wanted to stay home and continue the book, but it'd be stupid of him to not try meet his old friends again.

Quirin saw his son running down the staircase, something that made him worry. Once Varian had approached him, Quirin reached out and placed his hand on his head, gentle and soft while he spoke with calm words. "Hello, Varian. Please don't run down the stairs." The father didn't want Varian to fall, maybe even hitting his head again. He had taught him this long ago, but this piece, obviously hasn't returned yet.

"Sorry." he said out of breath. "So, uh, when are we gonna go?" he asked, almost wanting to hurry the meeting so he could return to his book.

"Whenever you like, son." Quirin didn't want to push him. He had prepared everything and they didn't have to rush things. If Varian needed time, it was okay, the kids would be there every other day too.

He glanced up at his room. The book was tempting, getting lost in the story again, shutting himself out of the public for hours. It sounded so much easier. But he was still left with very few memories of himself. He could remember his books easily, but his own self was still a mystery. The book could wait, the story was not going to change if he left it for a couple of minutes. Getting answers was more important. He saw it now. He turned back to Quirin. "Well... now maybe?"

The father nodded. Varian sounded a bit insecure, yet his eyes had a certain determination. He walked over to the wardrobe, handing the boy his second winter cloak as well as mittens, a scarf and a bobble hat. Usually Varian didn't like all this extra stuff, but Quirin would insist. He shouldn't freeze this time and they would most likely play outside.

Varian put everything on, brushing his hair with his hands to tame them a little. "How do I look?" he asked with a smile, opening his arms, presenting himself. He wanted to make a good second-first impression, to him, they were still strangers he had yet to meet. But he was admittedly, pretty excited to go. Especially if it meant he'd regain some memories.

Quirin smiled at him, the child so excited like he was on his first day of school. He had even made the same pose. The father scanned him before he answered, showing he really looked and not only wanted to reassure him. "Like a fine young man." His voice was honest. This would be a good day. The miller sons would be nice, they would play and laugh, maybe they'd build a snow castle or have a snowball fight. There were so many things they could do, the snow blanket thicker than ever, so much white everywhere. "Only one thing is still missing..." With a determined move he pulled the bobble hat over Varian's head, it was a good, old, woolen one, dark blue with a white bobble. It would keep his ears and head warm to play a long time outside.

The boy adjusted the hat and and gave a smile to him, already starting to move to the exit. "Let's go then!" he suggested and opened the heavy, front door, entering the cold that he had woken up into, two days ago. The prospect of playing in it, being safe out there, was another new experience for him. He followed his father to their destination, excited to see his village and his friends.

Varian stormed outside, his feet sinking deep into the snow. The father followed with a calm smile on his lips. The air was still cool and fresh and the sun shone bright down on them, letting the snow glisten golden wherever the rays touched it. After they wanked a bit, Quirin called out. "Varian, wait a moment." The father waited until the boy had whirled around, then the man turned a bit and looked back. "This is the castle, your home."  
From the distance they had a better sight, a huge building indeed. The walls of each part built with different colored stones, a huge main building accompanied by two towers and a small timber-framed part. A big staircase that lead to the front door, the one both of them had stepped out of. Although some parts of the castle looked neglected and a bit like a ruin, it was a welcoming sight, the colors of the bricks bright dots in the white landscape. After he had given Varian some moments to process this, he walked on. This time, the village was a lot more lively, people walked around, and simply chattered, others had filled baskets or came back from the forest with wood they collected, others shoved paths into the snow to let everyone walk easier. Here was a completely different atmosphere, the silence which was part of the castle was non existent here. Quirin guided Varian through the village, pointing to houses to tell him which family lived there or showing him the few stores Old Corona had to offer. It was convenient that the mill and the house of the millers lay on the other side of the village, a bit outside even. This way, he had the perfect opportunity to also give his son a tour through Old Corona. Once they reached the mill, the silence was back, the family seemed to be in the house. As both reached the front door Quirin turned his face to his son. "Varian, are you ready? Do you want to meet them?" He hasn't knocked yet. If the boy felt uncomfortable, they could simply leave. That's why the father asked again, Varian should not feel pushed or overwhelmed, maybe the many new faces in the village had already been enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sledging accident, Varian lost his memory, completely.  
> When Quirin found him like this, it became clear that it wouldn't be an easy task to awaken his memories again, that is if the boy really should remember everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction is a collaboration with nyxglitch on tumblr (https://nyxglitch.tumblr.com/)! It is an rp that's why the passages will switch the points of views. 
> 
> warnings: mentions of blood and injury, bullying and some violence

Varian had taken in everything, every little detail, the path they followed, the amount of people mingling around, maybe not specific names and faces, but just getting idea for how big their village was. There was a lot to see, even if the village itself was nothing massive. He memorised a few spots they passed by. To use as beacons or checkpoints in case of need, say he wanted to go to his friends without having to drag Quirin with him. They finally reached the house, after a bit of walking, his own home lost in the distance now. He looked up at Quirin, his question sounding a little odd to ask now that they were there. "Yeah, we came all this way, right? Come on, knock!" he encouraged him, nervous, but equally excited to see them, to get a conversation going. Who knows what he could learn about himself from this meeting alone.

Varian answered more certain now, showing Quirin he really wanted to meet them, today. No backing out. The father nodded and knocked determined, the sound clearly audible. Some noise could be heard in the house, voices exchanging something and steps approaching. It was the miller who had opened the door, a broad form nearly filling out the door frame. His gaze first met Quirin and the man held eye contact for a moment, before it drifted shortly to the small boy, only a glance before his attention lay again on the father. "Good morning, Quirin." He finally greeted the village leader. Quirin returned the words friendly and put a hand on Varian's shoulder. "I wanted to ask if your sons maybe would like to play with my son? In case they have time to play of course, I don't want to disturb them while doing tasks." The miller shrugged and waved a bit with both hands. "No, you don't disturb, not at all. They already helped me this morning and I'm sure they will be glad to play outside." His gaze went back into the house, where some loud laughter could be heard, a sound that made the miller's eyebrow raise, an expression with a faint hint of annoyance. Maybe, he was even glad to have some quiet hours, the sons finally outside. Quirin was sure he would have sent them away, already, if it wasn't Quirin who had requested them to wait. Now, the miller called out to them, waiting for them to appear on the front door.  
The father nodded as a quiet 'thank you', not further addressing the memory loss of his son. The miller's wife had ensured him she would talk to the boys and explain the situation to them. He better stayed silent now, Varian didn't need to know he already talked to them, or rather everybody in the village. The man crouched down in front of his son, placing both hands on the small shoulders. "See, Varian, they have time. You can play with them outside, but if you are cold please come back home. And also, return before it gets dark. Do you think you can find your way home? Or do you want me to pick you up?"

The boy remained silent, watching the exchange and hiding his nervous anticipation to meet them at last. He heard laughter come from the house, their voices not yet reminding him of something specific, but the sound did unsettle him, he admitted. He straightened his clothes with his hands, and readjusted his hat, holding his hands together to keep calm. Another old habit that had returned to him. Then, Quirin knelt in front of him, coming down to his level to ask him about their later plan and let him know to be home on time. "Uh, I-... I could try coming back. It's not too difficult, I think I remember the way home." he assured, having made a small, mental map in his mind, for later. He could have sworn he also heard whispers coming from the house, tilting his head a little as he tried to peek inside, but the miller was blocking the way.

"I'm sure you can manage." Quirin let go of his shoulders, knowing his son has been attentive the whole time, the way back being something Varian could memorize easily. The boy had craned his neck to get a look inside, apparently he couldn't wait to meet them already. It reassured Quirin that Varian showed so much interest in other kids, something he hasn't done while hiding in this lonely lab. The miller had watched the scene a bit, the moment Quirin drew away, he turned his head himself, calling out to his sons. "Nickolas, Stephan, come here, there is a friend of yours!"

Two boys stepped out, all dressed in winter clothes, a similar height to Varian. One of them looked a little older, his built obviously bigger too, even under all the layers. The other was shorter, obviously younger by a year or so. Both were clearly the miller's sons, the light brown hair and hazel-green eyes, clearly coming from their father. Unlike Varian and his own dad, who as he pointed out, had little to no resemblance. The boy gave a buck-toothed smile, so nervous he could feel his heart ready to break, but he could handle it. The brothers looked at him, scanning him from head to toe. The older one, looked unamused for the most part, a sly-ish grin on his face after he was done confirming who he was. The younger one had a steady smile on his face, friendly yet mischievous. There was a short awkward silence, none really making a move while the fathers were still there.

Varian felt that something should happen now, someone should speak up, break this spreading silence. The grip on his own hands tightened a bit, just like he stiffed up. He shot an uncertain glance up to his father, the only person he knew in this situation. But the man looked at the boys, his gaze almost like he was scanning them. Varian felt an anxiety boiling up that he had not expected. Why was he so nervous? They had been his friends, right? So why was his heart racing now, almost like he would be afraid? They most likely _knew_ him! He couldn't let the opportunity to get some more details on who he was slip, just because of his own cowardice! He straightened his back and looked them in the eyes, while he stretched his hand out, ready to give a handshake. A deep breath followed before he started to speak, his voice still shaky, although he tried his best to keep calm. "Good-... good morning!"

The younger brother's smile widened and extended his hand at the boy, a firm handshake that would be enough to shake him whole. "Hey, Varian! Long time no see! How 'ave you been?" he exclaimed as if meeting an old friend. The older one continued to look at him, waiting to see what he'd do next, curious and cautious, seemingly aware of Varian's condition.

Varian smiled back at him, a bit shy and holding back a wince as his hand was about to be squished and his arm was shaken in a wide range. Had handshakes always been this strong and wild? He couldn't recall. The only thing he knew was that he was more than relieved as it was over, his hand free again, although he still felt the grip of the other boy. Hopefully unnoticed, he moved his fingers a bit once his arm has dropped back onto his side, to bring life into his hand again. "I'm fine... I'm... thank you..." He stuttered, the sentence not making much sense in the end. He felt how his hands started to get sweaty. He needed to tell them what had happened. They deserved to know, the younger one had greeted him so friendly and also he wanted to get to know how he was! He couldn't ask such questions out of the blue, they needed some prior information to understand why he was asking. And he should immediately continue, he was already on his best way to embarrass himself! "Actually... Actually I had a accident. I hit my head and lost my memory. I... can't remember... much." As he spoke further, his eyes shifted to his feet, darting around on the ground. How would they react? Would they feel sorry? Would they not care? Or laugh? He didn't know how his mind got the idea of the last one, but it appeared. And he feared they would really do. With a nervous, beating heart he looked up again, focusing back to their faces.

The older one took a step forward, confident and friendly, but not as enthusiastic as the younger one. "Hey, it's fine. So you forgot a few things, it doesn't change anything, we can still hang out, right Nick?" he spoke, putting an arm over Varian's shoulder as if he attempted an one armed hug. The younger sibling nodded and quickly suppressed a chuckle, but continued to smile. "We are gonna go show Varian around, maybe call the others to join us too. M'kay, dad?" he spoke to his father, their relationship nowhere near as distant or respectful as Varian and Quirin's.

Varian stiffed up in an instant. The other boy, apparently Stephan, if he combined the little information he had, suddenly right beside him. He still didn't feel well in their presence, his stomach knotting as the arm lay around him. It was foolish, wasn't it? They were nice so far, ensured they could still play together, even though he had lost his memory. Maybe it was just because they were still strangers to him? He had reacted to Quirin, his own dad, the same way. He had known nothing at this day, so it had been the right thing, he had kept his guard up. But now, it was a different situation. His dad had brought him here, here to this house to let him play. He was the leader of the whole village, he knew the people here. And those boys really seemed to know the Varian he used to be, they were around the same age as he himself was and they have probably grown up the whole time together in this village. Holding up the guard was ridiculous, this time, there was no logical reason to fear them so much. He tried to relax a bit, letting the hug continue while he forced another smile. It would be a great day, right? He just had to fight back this anxiety and he could have fun today. His gaze wandered to Quirin, his father had observed the scene. "I'm fine, dad. I'll-I'll come back in the evening, just as you told me."

The man listened to the child's words. The kids seemed nice so far and also wanted to play with his son. Varian still stood there, a bit awkward, but he tried to ensure him it was alright. Maybe they needed to be on their own until the ice really would break, Varian had also rejected him at the beginning, so the fact he let the boy hug him, reassured Quirin enough for now. His boy could manage, he was sure. And at dinner, he could tell him all the things he had experienced with them.

"Alright." He didn't want to hold them back longer, he was sure all of them couldn't wait for the moment the parents finally left. "Have fun, Varian, see you in the evening! Goodbye! And thank you!" He was waving to all of them, while he turned around to leave, the last sentences directed to the miller. The other man said goodbye too, before he answered his kid. "Yes, show this boy around, but behave, is this clear? Be careful with the snowballs. No snowball fight in the middle of the village anymore." The man looked down to them, hoping they would listen to him. Despite his intimidating frame, his sons were too cheeky for their own good, he may had been too weak with his scolding the last years. But at least, they had much confidence, something young people need in this world, completely different to Quirin's son, this scrawny boy that almost ducked under the touch of his own father.

"Alright then! Let's get going, shall we?" Stephan suggested, his grip a little tighter, a subtle motion that restrained Varian just a little more under his arm, until he let go and gave himself distance again. He and his younger sibling began to move away, making sure that their new friend was following closely. Their father had gone back inside and the other man had began to fade in the distance, getting out of hearing range soon enough. There was a silence for the most part, except for their footsteps crunching on the snow. Until the younger one couldn't hold in a comment. "So you forgot _everything_?" he almost yelled in excitement, never before had he heard that memory loss from a hit was even possible. The older one punched him in the arm, peeved by the lack of caution in his words. Or rather, how quick he was to ask that question.

Varian had followed them quietly, his gaze wandering between both. Slowly, his anticipation returned, now while he had more space of his own again and the judging eyes of the adults were gone. Surely, he missed dad a bit, his presence had given him a sense of security, someone he knew already a bit in this unfamiliar world. But he wouldn't turn his head to look back, he was no little boy anymore and he didn't want to give his new old friends the impression he would be. So he walked with his head high, following this boys with beating heart and the thought of getting back a piece of his memory made him smile. They had already walked some paces away from the house and Varian got more curious with every step. What would they do now? What would they play? So many possibilities came to his mind! However, his thoughts got interrupted as he felt a gaze lying onto him. He turned his head a bit, the younger of the brothers had stared at him from the side, kept staring even. Was something in his face? Did he look weird? Was something wrong? He parted his lips to ask, but before he could do so, the boy couldn't hold back anymore, the question bursting out with a weird sparkle in the eyes. Varian winced in surprise, the voice suddenly so loud and excited. They stopped and the other boy looked with a demanding attitude at him, not even really bothered by the punch his brother gave him to calm him down. "I..." Varian felt a bit uncomfortable now, the stare so testing and the words so blunt. But he was just curious, wasn't he? There was nothing wrong with asking him how much he could remember and given they knew him, they could help him fill the gaps... or well... filling the completely white canvas his memory was at the moment. Varian gulped the lump in his throat away, that had formed within those awkward seconds. "I-I can't remember anything, I'm sorry." He paused a moment, looking at both of them, gathering enough courage to finally start asking questions.  
"Were... were we good friends? Did... we meet often?" He needed to know. Who had he always played with? Did he have a best friend? Was he part of a group? Did they meet each day? There were so many questions, all popping up in his head in an instant. With anticipation, he waited for the answers, he was just some heartbeats away from getting new information!

The younger one was ready to speak again, when Stephan put his hand in a silencing gesture and then looked at Varian, smiling slightly. "Oh, yes. We were the best of friends! You and I especially. I mean, let's be real, who wouldn't want to hang out with the future village leader?" he replied, continuing to walk a little. There was a certain air of superiority in his posture and voice. While he wasn't _that_ much bigger compared to Varian, there was a clear difference. "Which reminds me! We should totally go to our secret hideout, we used to go there _all_ the time." he continued, putting his hand on Varian's shoulder, dragging him down with his weight a little. The younger one failed to suppress his laughter, even with his hands as his mouth, snorty giggles still escaped. Stephan gave him an annoyed look and then spoke. "How about you go get the others, you know, just like the old times? I'll keep our _friend_ some company as we go to the hideout." his voice was firm yet not adult-like, it still sounded like a kid commanding another kid. As he spoke, he pat Varian's shoulder, a heavy hand trying to almost drag the boy down. "Sure! I'll go get them! Don't have too much fun without us!" he laughed and dashed to the village to get the others, quickly getting out of sight. Stephan shook his head and turned his focus back to the other boy. "So, you forgot everything, huh?... Rough." he commented, a pseudo-empathy in his tone.

They really were friends! This new piece of the puzzle made him raise his head and a broad, buck toothed smile spread on his lips. He had a _friend_! The boy in front of him! The comment with the future village leader felt a bit out of place, but it was true, he would follow his father's footsteps someday. Nevertheless, a bit of suspicion grew in him. 'What if they only liked me _because_ I'm the son of the leader?' His smile faded a bit at this new thought, but maybe he just overthought the situation too much? He looked up to Stephan, who had continued to speak, the boy's hand laying heavy on his shoulder. His father had also placed his hands there, but always gentle and soothing, never had he felt so much dragged down by it, like now. But maybe Stephan was always this way? Leaning like this on him? As far as he had experienced, they were much rougher, the firm handshake being a good example, as well as how one brother had punched the other, a bit. Perhaps, the old Varian had been as rough as they were? Had welcomed the playful challenge? He should try to adapt then! Varian blinked to get his concentration back on the conversation, while he tried to stand firmer and not give in like a wimp. Then, he heard the word 'hideout' and something within him rang a bell.  
"A hideout!" He couldn't stop, but call out in a fever of excitement. It sounded great and thrilling, the thought on hiding somewhere together, on a special place, was intriguing. Flynn Rider, also had some hideouts, his memory suddenly giving him this information, and things Flynn Rider experienced were always exciting! The giggle of the other boy made him snap out of his over-excitement, however. Was he laughing about his reaction? Had he been too childish? A small knot formed in his stomach. Varian furrowed his brows. Why was he so uncertain with them, his emotions shifted around, it was just crazy. How did he even get the idea he would laugh about him? They were his _friends_! With a slight feeling of guilt, he watched the younger brother leave, wishing them even fun. He really should stop analysing too much and question everything. Better he started to trust his friends, before he messed up. He waved before Nickolas was out of sight, but he wasn't sure if the boy had noticed him, in the end. Now, he was alone with Stephan. His friend addressed his memory loss again. "Yeah..." Varian looked to the ground, a bit embarrassed to be in such a weird state. "I- I mean I- even forgot who my father was! And-! And my own name! It was..." He wanted to say 'scary', but he remembered how confident Stephan was. Varian didn't want to look small and fragile even if he had opened his heart in the rush of emotions. "...wild" He rubbed his neck, a motion that felt somehow familiar and reassuring to him, something he needed right now so much.

The miller's son simply nodded and let go of him, taking slow and wide strides in the snow, leading the way to their destination. "Shame. We have so many memories together, the whole village actually. You were always quite the talk of the town." he commented, getting ahead of him now. "And how could you not be? You are the village leader's son, a _very_ special kid, of course they'd have things to say." he continued, never exactly mentioning if the talk was a good or a bad thing. He wanted to see if Varian would figure it out on his own. He let for a short pause, but spoke again before Varian could answer or asks any questions. "Do you remember our favourite game?" he stopped and turned to look at him now, mischief in his eyes, one that worked more as a warning.

Varian listened carefully to Stephan's words while he followed, they could give him so much information about his former self. And they really did! He had been well known in the village, no big surprise since he was Quirin's son, but a point he could be sure about now. Stephan's voice got a little sharper sometimes, as well as his pace sped up. Varian had to take wide steps to not fall behind. _A very special kid?_ What did he mean? He tried to ask, but the boy kept talking and Varian didn't want to interrupt him. He could ask later too, although the questions started to pile up with every new hint Stephan gave him, leaving him in a mess of thoughts. What was the boy trying to say? What had happened? Had he done something bad? Had he made him mad somehow? Or did he just really badly misinterpret his tune? In the end, the boy stopped and Varian couldn't help but look confused upwards. The fast walk had made his breathing hitch, he seemed to be out of shape too. Had he really played this much outside? He couldn't deny his bad feeling now, his stomach knotted at Stephan's voice although his words should have been nice. "Favourite game?" He asked weakly, blinking up to the boy with a faint hope in his eyes, he just thought there had been a shift in the atmosphere. "I'm sorry... I told you. I forgot everything." He gulped slowly, before he continued. "Could you tell me... please?"

Stephan bit his lip from inside his mouth, trying to hold back from bursting out laughing. He really hadn't changed, even with his memories gone. He took a few steps towards him, a pretense niceness in his words. "Sure, of course I'll tell you! That's what friends are for after all... Right?" he finally reached him and put his arm over shoulders again, just like earlier, but this time, he made sure to lean on him more, to drag him down, to restrict him without fear of being scolded. He walked forward again, nearly dragging Varian with him. He continued heading to their destination, not too far from where they were now. "So, about that game. To put it simply, you just have to beat the other players. There aren't any rules, the only objective is to win! You loved it! Even if you weren't very good at it." he answered, self-assured, still keeping Varian in close range. He suddenly stopped, his grip on Varian's shoulder tightening uncomfortably. "Do you remember who always won that game?" he asked, his voice now a little quieter, and a huff later, he continued again. "Who am I kidding, of course you don't... Let me just jot your memory a little, then!" he declared and with that, he pushed Varian forward, tripping him on purpose, making sure he'd hit the snow with force.

Varian had endured everything - the moment Stephan's arm lay onto him, heavy like an iron bar on his neck, the way he had to hurry to get his feet forward in the deep snow, before the boy would completely drag him and those sugar coated words that reached his ear, sweet but with a bitter taste after they had been spoken. His heart beat wildly in his chest now and he hadn't fought back yet - not that he had a big chance anyway, Stephan's grip firm and determined, his fingers digging into Varian's shoulder without any mercy. The boy's senses screamed that something was off, shouting he should run away and not listen any further. But before he could do anything, he saw himself falling, the ground got closer rapidly, after a harsh push into his back. His hands shot forward, trying to save himself somehow, but his arms simply sunk into the snow, as well as his face, hitting the freezing surface. His vision went white and his skin immediately cold and he gasped in shock, struggling to get up again. He shoved himself into a hunched, sitting position, sitting on his knees as he tried to find back his orientation. "St-Stephan, what...?" He mumbled while his face was covered with a pricking sensation and he felt how the fabric of his trouser slowly got wet on his knees, where they touched the snow. At least his boots covered the rest of his leg well enough. Varian rubbed with his mitten over his face, trying to get it away from his eyebrows and lashes, ignoring that the wool of the mitten also was already covered with snow.  
Was this the game? Shoving each other around? In such a mean way? The boy fought back upwelling tears. He didn't want to. The boy was rough and wild and he had tried to ignore the feeling, but he couldn't ignore it any longer. He didn't fit in. He didn't fit in this little group of the two brothers, he was not like this. Stephan had claimed the old Varian had liked the game, even while losing. Was his old self really this way? He couldn't tell. But what he could tell was that he didn't want to be like that anymore. He didn't want to and he didn't have to! Finally, he looked up to Stephan, still on the ground, trying to hold his gaze determined and no tears escaping his eyes. "I don't like this game." Before he could stop himself, these words already slipped over his lips and his eyes widened, wincing at the sound of his own boldness. He struggled for more words, his lips already open to speak, while he searched for a more diplomatic way. A tiny voice still whispered that he could still be their friend, maybe not the same as he had been, but he didn't want to be alone either. "Let's.... let's just play something else, instead...okay? We could still have fun!... Right?"

The boy laughed when he saw Varian's shocked face, the idiot having suspected nothing from him, thinking of him as a friend simply because he was told so. He looked even more pathetic on the ground, Stephan still standing tall, looking down on him. "What's wrong, Varian? I thought you wanted me to remind you the game!" he replied in a mocking tone, raising his shoulders as if he had nothing to be accused of. But then, he declared he did not like the game, nothing surprising here. But what was surprising, was the fact that he even dared to say so. He raised an eyebrow at him, then Varian scrambled to back up, looking for a compromise, which only made the other boy laugh. "Oh, but _I am_ having fun! Come on! Don't be such a wimp! Show me what you've got!" he challenged, almost shouting at him.

"No-no, please... Let's do something else!" Varian stood up quickly, patting his trousers to get off the snow. Stephan had raised his voice, he clearly wanted to get him into a fight. The old Varian may have accepted. But he wasn't like this anymore. Although the other boy scared him a bit, he tried to stand straight, his hands in front of him with the palms open. "I-I don't want to fight. This... this way! Maybe... a snowball fight?" He tried a compromise, it was still fighting, but it was a little less... rough. At least he hoped. With pleading eyes and slight trembling he waited for an answer, this game Stephan would very likely also count to his favourites, the miller had mentioned it. It simply _had to_ work! In the end, Stephan told him he was his friend.

He dropped his arms beside him, his shoulders slumping as he shook his head with disbelief. He should have known, even with all his memories gone, it was still the same Varian. The same pathetic child that they rarely ever saw in the past few years, maybe for the better. He really was an embarrassment after all. He took a few steps forward, completely ignoring the pleas for a peace treaty. Once he got close enough, his arm lunged forward and grabbed Varian's coat from the collar, bringing him closer to ensure he had his full attention. If he was any taller, Varian would have been completely off the ground. "You really are as pathetic as you were before." he spoke, his grip steady on him "Future village leader... Yeah, right! As if I'd ever let my self be led by a coward and a disaster like you!" he spat, no longer cautious to not let his true colours show.

Varian's eyes widened as Stephan approached him, the boy suddenly frozen, not able to step back. With a swift move, he was pulled forward, even a bit upward. Varian struggled in the grip, his hands clawing on the arm that grabbed him in such a rude way, but to no use. The boy had to balance on his tiptoes, barely standing on the ground. "Let go! Let me go!" He demanded, his words louder and stronger than he felt, the trembling had increased due to the shock and the position he had to hold. It was exhausting. Stephan continued to talk like Varian hasn't said anything, insulting him now openly with clear words.  
"I'm... no disaster!" Would he ever let him go? Varian gasped for air, his racing heart didn't help at all, needing even more oxygen than usual. His mind raced too. What did Stephan mean? Disaster? Why? What had happened? Was this the reason he was mad at him? What had he done? Varian felt like he would lose the ground under his feet, not only because of Stephan who was still lifting him, no, it was like his base was crumbling away. If Stephan thought this way... in such a hateful way... and was no friend at all... what about Nickolas? Was he the same too? What about the other kids? Varian bit his lip to fight back these thoughts, accompanied by a wave of feelings, his heart felt squeezed as his chest tightened. Was he alone? More tears welled up, one tear finally rolling over his reddish cheek. He pressed his lips together, he didn't want to sob in front of him, not while he stared at him, this guy, who had just pretended to be his friend to hurt him! He wanted to be somewhere else, far away from him, he wanted to flee. But the miller's son still grabbed him, watching amused his struggling. He wouldn't let him go, he wouldn't, Varian had to fight even if he didn't like to. The grin he saw was blurry, his whole sight was, as he gasped for air. "I'm-I'm no coward either!" He shouted, letting out his frustration, stating something he didn't know for sure, but he wanted to believe it and he needed to, as well. He clung onto the arm that held him high, getting his feet off the ground and kicked around wildly, hitting the other boy a few times on the shinbone. This must be enough to free him!

He studied him, trying to wrap his mind around how in the world was he and Quirin related in any way. Sure, the man was kind with his village, but he remained intimidating and leader-like, strong and bold and unphased. His child however? He was crying. Literally, crying just from a few tough words. What a baby. But it was honestly no wonder for a weakling like him. He denied Stephan's statements. He admitted, he was only surprised by the fact that he had the guts to defy him, something he would never dare to do before. But then again, he didn't know any better. Then Varian began to kick, a bold move that both amused him and annoyed him, until he landed a kick on his shinbone, making him let out a yell and let go of his collar, dropping him. But the boy was not stunned for long. "Why, you stupid-" he snarled and charged at him, jumping at him and pinning him on the ground, his front on the snow as he pulled his arm behind his back.

He had succeeded! Varian felt how the grab vanished in an instant, his whole body falling down. He tried to land on his feet, but his knees betrayed him, buckled when he needed them so dearly. He slumped with a thud on the ground, whirling around as soon as his knees touched the ground while he pushed himself with his arms, scrambling to his feet in the process. He had to run! Away, far away from this guy! Home! Yes, he needed to run home! His own heartbeat drummed in his ears as his paces got wider and he started to run. Faintly behind, him he heard him mumbling, the snow crunching as he followed him. He _followed_ him! His heart jolted and Varian tried to speed up, lost in the deep snow, every step simply not fast enough. _'Nononono!'_ The boy crashed into his back, dragging him down, just some seconds after he had tried to get away. The air was pressed out of his lungs, a horrible helpless sound escaped his mouth, muffled through the snow, followed by a desperate row of gasps to fill them again somehow. He turned his head sideways, finally getting enough air as a bit of his face was out of the snow. He had to keep one eye closed, the cold white cooling down his skin again, so rapid that it hurt. One of his arms was pulled backwards, while Stephan put weight on his back. He screamed in agony, the cold, the pain, the shock all coming together. What had he done? What had he done? _What had he done to deserve this?!_

"That's for blowing up our house!" he yelled at him, completely untouched by Varian's screams. He stayed like this for a minute, digging his knee into his spine more as he tugged on his arm, pulling at his hair abruptly, out of the blue. "And that is for when you set the village square on fire!" he spat again, getting up after tossing his arm away and shoving his head back in the snow, but as soon as he stood up, he kicked his side, obviously not caring if it hurt him. "And that is for being a disgrace to all of us! I seriously can't believe that 'your father' hasn't exiled you yet!" he shouted, full anger and hatred for all the times Varian's antics had put him and the people he cared about in peril, just because he could. But this could change. He could make him retreat. Letting someone more capable take over.

_Blowing up the house?_ Varian almost thought he had heard wrong, but every time his mind replayed the words he heard, this sentence was the outcome. Breathing was difficult, something pointy pressing against his spine, an ugly constant pain, he felt like he would be squeezed until he couldn't breathe anymore. But then fingers scratched over the skin of his head, grabbing the hair and pulling on the roots. Varian shrieked at this sharp pain as his head moved involuntarily upwards, pulled by the hair. A whimper followed, _everything hurt_ , his eyes welling up as he opened both of them, the snow sticking on his lashes and making his sight even blurrier. But all he could see through those watery eyes was snow, everywhere, the small meadow spreading before him, surrounded by trees. Only snow and trees and no one close to help him, _he was alone_. However, his sight shrunk again, as he was pushed back into the snow, he hurried to close his eyes, before they crashed into the white. The cold started to burn on his cheeks, the world felt somehow muffled while he tried to process the situation and the aggressive words. He had blown up a house, burned down the village square and was a disgrace? And why did this guy have such a weird tune as he said 'father'? This was too much for Varian, all of these words were too sudden, too rough and blunt and could he even trust him? _No._ He had lied to his face, right in front of him, told him he was a _friend!_ He couldn't trust him, a conclusion that was a safety rope for his mind, not able to bear with all this information, right now. He groaned at the kick, another spot on his body that hurt now. He rolled himself up to a ball, like he could shut the world out this way, quietly whimpering while he desperately thought of a course of action.

Stephan watched him, waiting for him to do something. After all, he had just fought back. But instead, he gave up, a whimpering ball in front of him, like an injured deer. But he couldn't mistake him for what he wasn't. Varian had brought a lot of misfortune in their village, time and time again, never learning from his mistakes, and things getting worse with each passing year. He had so much to apologise for. And now, he didn't even remember what it was that he had to feel guilt about. It angered him so much, acting so clueless, genuinely unaware. He had made up his mind, he was going to teach him a lesson. With a swift move, he ducked down and grabbed his arm, pulling him upright and dragging him with him. "You made a mistake to forget what you've done to us." he growled pulling him along to the shed, only a few steps away. Varian had run right into it when he tried to flee, and now, all the older village kids were there, Nickolas having assembled them, none of them fully aware of their little 'prank' on the boy.

Before he could make up any plan, Varian was pulled upright. His posture was insecure and frightened, he had no idea what Stephan wanted to do now, he was just dragged along, stumbling forward, while most of his sight was filled with the other boy's frame, who didn't seem to have any kind of mercy. But what could he do? Running away hasn't worked, at a time he had been mostly fine, and now everything hurt and ached the moment he moved, making him realize that the chance of success has sunken so low, he was reluctant to even try it again. He couldn't beat him in strength either, an open fight was out of question. Would words work somehow? He almost fell as Stephan blamed him again, tripping one or two steps forward. As he raised his head again, his vision has changed, children in front of a small wooden shed, now filled the formerly, empty forest. He... he was not alone! His head shot more upward, looking at them with wide and glassy eyes while his heart beat hard against his rib cage. Stephan might be too stubborn to listen, but the others would help him, right? With a shaky breath, he gathered enough air to speak up, preparing himself mentally for the next step. Stephan kept pulling him forward to an unknown goal, but this would stop right now, he would no longer let himself get dragged along like a puppet! Varian leaned back, heels digging into the snow as he used all his weight to hinder Stephan from pulling him any further. "N-No!" He exclaimed, voice shaky, but loud. "Let me go! I-I can't remember anything about it! I can't!" His eyes darted to the other kids, they simply watched the scene by now, but he was sure they would not only stand by, the whole time. "Someone - please - someone help!" His cry couldn't be left unheard, he had spoken loud enough to reach them, they would not only watch! Hope bloomed in his chest and he kept looking over to the others, waiting for the first one to move and come to his aid.

It irritated him beyond belief, how squeamish and afraid he acted. This was their future leader?! He just couldn't stomach it. Varian made him and the others feel unsafe just to have him around, having him make decisions for the village as well? That, he couldn't simply let be. It wasn't that he thought of Quirin as a bad leader, but with Varian, he had gone so, so wrong. His shrill voice pierced his eardrums almost, making him shove him down once again, letting go of him for now. "Oh, would you shut up?! Grow a backbone already!" he shouted, looking firmly at him. "My dad was right, you will never be like 'your dad'!" he added, again with the mocking tone, the irony in the last words. The other kids didn't really act upon any of this, just looking, some slightly fearful, others not reacting. They had seen this scene before, except the old Varian had managed to escape, his alchemy once again saving him. But that wasn't the case this time, the outcome certain and predictable.

Varian hit the ground with his back, the snow acting as pillow for once. An annoyed voice reached his ears, Stephan kept raging at him, but this was no surprise. The most important thing was he was _free_ , for now, and he hurried to stand up, his eyes scanning the situation. The others haven't moved, not even an inch, standing still, a bit away and eyeing at the scene like there was nothing special about it. _Didn't they see how he was treated? Didn't they care about it? Did they maybe even want Stephan to do this?_ He felt suddenly sick to his stomach, looking at all those unfamiliar faces, knowing they know him, but were not willing to interfere here. It made his world spin. He stumbled a few steps backwards, trying to calm down. They are no help. They are no help at all. He had to save himself. This thought, somehow grounded him again, stopped the world from spinning and he clearly felt the ground under his feet. Without any help, running away was again, his only option left. He simply had to be faster this time! He was about to whirl around as Stephan shouted again and he really wanted to ignore it. But his heart came to an abrupt halt, missed a beat as time stopped for him. Again, he had a weird tune as he talked about his father, Quirin. Was there something all the others knew? Something the whole village was aware of, but not Varian? Did Quirin have a secret? His reflection in the mirror came back to his mind, his frame, so different, his eyes, his nose, his ears, not even the color of the hair was the same. He looked nothing like Quirin. This fact unnerved him, so much that he stopped feeling. Did Stephan hold a piece of the puzzle Quirin would never tell him? He wanted to know it. Even if his source was doubtful, he could still listen and decide afterwards what he wanted to believe. His eyes darted to Stephan, straight to his face, his gaze now locked onto the boy's eyes. "What do you mean by 'my dad'. Why are you saying it like that?" His posture has straightened now, he was no longer in the defensive, he wanted to know and he wouldn't run away before he knew.

Stephan looked at him, a bit bemused, but he didn't show it, biting back a smirk until he realised he had the upper hand, not letting Varian's sudden bravery intimidate him. He was still Varian after all. Whatever this idiot tried, Stephan had a certain victory. "Oh, please! As if you haven't noticed already, yourself! He is not your dad! He can't be! I mean look at you!" he replied, gesturing at the boy in front of him. He began taking a few paces forward, approaching him. "You are a small-fry! Puny, weak. _He_ is strong and capable of leading us! You can see it from a mile away!" he remarked, stopping in front of him and bowing a little, to get a better look at Varian who was a little shorter. "You however? You are still a wimp, even when you are standing right in front of us." he said and flicked Varian's nose, making him turn his head up. "And you wanna know why that's the case?" he asked, not moving from his position, standing tall and confident, ready to crush him even more.

Varian listened to the boy in front of him, enduring his touch with gritted teeth. He didn't want to get into a fight, he wanted answers. But with each sentence, his hope to get any _useful_ information sunk, reaching a low, while anger started to bubbled in his guts, a boiling feeling which grew stronger and stronger. His gaze didn't flicker while he held eye contact. "Do you think I have never looked into the mirror? And my dad isn't blind either. You know what? I look like my mum, so what? And my black hair comes from my father's side." Was this all Stephan had to tell him? Some gossip without any useful content? The difference of him and Quirin, he had figured out within some hours, so there was nothing new at all, only his insults have become more detailed. Varian stared into the boy's eyes, his face so close to him that only the length of a hand would fit in between. The anger over the spoken words had even reached his heart, it beat so strong in his chest, completely different than the fearful racing it had done earlier. Finally, he answered to the last part. "And for the record, I'm not a wimp. I'm just not as brutal as you. Which is fine." His shoulders had stiffed up, the arms hanging straight downwards beside his frame, while his hands slowly clenched to fists, just because of the tension that filled the air. He hasn't stopped the eye contact yet, he wouldn't waver. He looked nothing like Quirin. But so what?! He could still be brave!

A few of the kids laughed, two or three of them, Nickolas starting off with a sudden outburst. "That- That's what he told you? Oh, Varian. Poor, stupid, good for nothing, Varian." the older one continued, pacing around him now. "Of course he couldn't bare to tell you the truth. He doesn't have the heart to tell you! After all, you'd just start crying again!" he yelled and shoved him again on the snow, after getting behind him. He still wanted to fight, to give Varian a reason to fight him. He wanted to at least see him try, he was Quirin's son for goodness' sake! He had to have some fighting spirit!... If he truly was, that is. "But I know the truth, we all do! And I can tell you... but you'll have to earn it! Fight me!" he challenged again watching him closely, and so did the other children, some cheering and encouraging Stephan. Casual fights were nothing new in the village, kids playing a little rough here and there, playing 'war' and re-enacting the battles in their stories. But the atmosphere was promising this was going to be more intense than usual.

_What he told you._ Quirin had told him that. He did, and Varian believed him. At least he wanted to. But Stephan didn't stop here, he kept talking like he knew more, something that would stay forever hidden for Varian if he didn't grasp this opportunity here. These words were picking on his heart, like little but sharp stings, trying to undermine his trust. Varian forced himself to stay strong, his stare had followed Stephan, the boy was slowly circling around him, making his head turn, while the blue eyes sparkled under his bangs. Although he saw the shove coming, he had been too close to dodge, falling down again into the snow, but just onto his knees. He tilted his head slowly in the direction Stephan paced around and gleamed upwards. Now, the kids showed interest, Varian could almost feel their anticipation for a fight, manifesting in their cheers and prying eyes, looking if he would fight back, _hoping_ they would fight and it was obvious who they wanted to win. The group had come closer, building a circle around the two boys. Varian felt trapped. And he was. His eyes darted around, as he slowly stood up. No gap to run away, to slip through without being grabbed while he tried. And where should he run anyway? They would simply chase him, catching him before he would even know if this was the right way to the castle.  
No. He couldn't run. They wanted a fight. They should get it. The _prize_ he was not entirely sure of, Stephan could still lie, although the nosy part of him whispered that he should gain this information or otherwise, he would ask himself forever what the miller's son probably could have known. But still, it was not his major motivation, no, the simple fact that he had no other way left was the thing that pushed him forward the most. He would never get away without a fight, they wouldn't let this happen and he was cornered and irritated and he had enough of all this. _He wanted to go home._ And if Stephan was the obstacle on his way he would overcome him. "Fine!" he spat, "You want to fight? It seems I _have_ to accept, this brute behaviour fits you well, it seems to be the only language you speak!"

The boy lit up, as he accepted his challenge. Chuckling to himself as his younger brother shouted words of encouragement to him, to which he acted as if he ignored. He was too surprised that _this_ Varian had finally given in, and not only that, he acted as if he thought he had a chance. Better remind him who was the real strength among them while his mind still had space for things to remember. It was the perfect setup, no adults to stop them, all the kids around to see for themselves who they should be rooting for and his opponent, the easiest win he could ever ask for. Even if he fought back, it'd be hopeless. "That's what I'm talking about!" he shouted and took a fighting stance. "Now come on! Prove to me that you are indeed Quirin's son! Come on! Show me!" he taunted him further, his fists close to himself to block any incoming hit. Clumsy as he may be, he knew better than to entirely drop his defenses. He waited for him to make the first move, watching closely. As much as he made it seem like a big deal, to him, it was all a game.

So this was it. A fight. Right here. Right now. Varian had no clues about fights, he had no special moves or techniques or, at least, his stupid mind didn't offer him any. Did the old Varian even fight? He had no idea. But in the end, it didn't matter. He was here, at the edge of fighting and he had to concentrate and get out of here! With focused gaze, he watched his opponent carefully, the miller's son went into a defensive posture, first. He was a bit bigger and had a wider frame than Varian, big hands with strong arms, definitely stronger than Varian. Fighting with brute force, he won't stand a chance, this was clear as day for Varian. He had to be smarter, fighting his opponent with weapons, other than his fists. But there was nothing else he could use, just his bare hands, no sticks or stones or anything else at all, nothing else but snow surrounding him. This was the moment he had an idea. "No rules you said to me, just winning somehow, right? Don't you think this is a bit too hard for you?"

He scoffed, really, what was he even talking about? "You seriously think you can beat me! Get a grip, Varian! But I guess it's not your fault! You did forget everything after all! You even forgot that your dad wasn't your dad!" he teased, dropping his defense a little, leaving Varian an opening without realising. If he wanted to land a hit, now was his chance!

The words pierced his heart and his stomach knotted with a sharp breath he took. For a second, he had almost forgotten his plan, too overtaken by this bluntness, no 'maybe' or 'perhaps' or 'this couldn't be' anymore, just a cold and heartless statement like it was a very well known fact. He felt like he had fallen into cold water, too numbed to move. But then, he saw Stephan's defense drop, the thing he wanted to achieve, the first step of his poor, but only plan he had. His heart jolted and he bowed down in a rush, back to his senses after the shock, and grabbed some snow with both hands. Surprisingly fast, he had formed a snowball out of it, round and solid in his hands. It stayed in his palms only for the moment, he moved his arm, throwing his makeshift weapon as fast and strong as he could and the white ball collided with a thud with Stephan's nose.

Before he could react, his face was covered in snow, a sudden move he couldn't block. If this was anyone else, he'd be impressed. But Varian was mocking him, thinking he could defeat him with simple snowballs. He should have been more specific with the rules. He angrily wiped the snow off his face and let out a frustrated growl. "That's not what I meant, you stupid beaver! Did you get dumber after you lost your memories, as well?!" he yelled, the playfulness leaving him a bit. From the crowd Nickolas called. "Ha! He called you a beaver!" he shouted, trying to support his brother's insults by repeating them. The others continued to watch, faint laughter coming from some of them.

_Bull's-eye!_ Varian lit up as he realized he had hit exactly the spot he had aimed for. Could it be he was good at this? He must know if it had been pure luck or if he had rediscovered a skill of his own! With bright eyes, he grabbed new snow, while an insult reached his ears, as well as its repetition from the younger brother. _Beaver._ They clearly meant this because of his teeth, two big buck teeth in the upper, front row. It was not like he hadn't noticed them yet, he had even seen them as he had stepped in front of the mirror, peeking out of his parted lips as he had examined his appearance. They didn't bother him, he could speak and eat and laugh and it was an interesting feeling whenever they touched his lower lip. But still, their laughter hurt him. He gulped and pressed his lips together for some heartbeats, the seconds he needed to prepare another snowball. Once he was armed again, his motivation returned. If he would hit him a second time, like he had planned, he would know another thing about himself! He straightened his posture, the voice clearer and more confident than this confusing mixture of feelings on the inside. "Wow-wow, is calling me names all you got? If you haven't noticed, I already made the first hit. It 1:0 for me." The new snowball bounced in his hand, as he threw it playfully in the air. "You better hurry, I guess it's 2:0 soon." If he had to fight, he would at least give his best and making Stephan angry and headless, induce him to make mistakes, that was his strategy. He didn't exactly know where his big mouth came from, but it was perfect for his plan and it felt good at last. Stephan had treated him badly, the mocking diverted him from feeling small and lost, washing away this aching in his chest. Now he was really in the mood to fight, showing this guy he was wrong, with all of his accusations. He was no wimp, he was no disgrace and he was no beaver!

He had to admit, out of all the things he could have expected Varian to remember, his loud and obnoxious mouth was not one of them. Oh, it made him angry alright, to be defied by the same person who had caused so much misfortune in their lives. Innocent bystanders, getting caught up in his maddening shenanigans. It was so unfair! And to have him stand up, act like this was _his_ game, it made him even angrier. But he wasn't planning to let him bend the rules for long. He had to remind him who the referee was in this match. He shielded himself with his arm, the snowball hitting his shoulder. A nuisance more than anything. He tightened his fists more. "Just face me like a man, you blue-haired freak!" he barked, ready to charge at him now. While he used this as an insult, he admitted, the other-worldly blue that stained his hair, unnerved all of them. None knew where it came from, not even if it meant anything. But it was certainly not from Quirin. And according to the villagers, his mother did not have such a freakish feature either.

The snowball would have hit better if Stephan wouldn't have moved. But this way, it just was his shoulder, not a very satisfying outcome and an angry pout appeared at Varian's face. He had to do better! He _knew_ , with a weird certainty, he could do better! His frustration grew as Stephan brought up the blue streak in his hair, something he couldn't explain himself, a thing he needed to ask his father someday, maybe he knew more. But right now, it bugged him to think about, a piece of his body that was, even with easy logic, not explicable. What kind of trick had mother nature played to cause that? But all his pondering would have no use now, the only one who could really have answers was not here, Stephan's shouting just an attempt to make him angry. He breathed in deeply through his nose, giving the boy a crooked smile. "I don't know what you are talking about, I actually fight while you just stand there frozen. Is this all you got?" With that he ducked down, grabbing again snow and threw it quickly, ducking again, and gave Stephan a shower of four or five snowballs in a row.

Varian was right. Stephan _was_ just standing there! He thought he'd manage to get to him with words, but nothing came through. He finally run up to him, after the snowball assault was over. This time he'd make him listen. He had enough of his tough act, his comebacks, his lack of any shame or remorse for all the disasters he had caused. For being a disaster himself. He charged at him, swinging a left hook straight for his face, landing a clear hit on his nose. Everyone could have sworn they heard a cracking sound. However, it could have just been the snow. A few gasps were audible too. A second of silence later, he declared, loud and clear. "I bet your mum was so scared of you that she left with that other man!" his words echoed a little, everyone else falling silent too. He had promised to tell him what he knew, once the fight was over, but this called for more extreme measures.

Varian ducked a bit slower to the ground, a little exhausted after this fast moves and all the trouble he had experienced so far. A fatal thing he noticed a moment later, as he lifted his head to stand up and throw the next snowball - all he saw was a fist coming straight at him, crashing into his face like a hammer. A loud crunch vibrated through his skull as pain exploded in his nose. He fell backwards without any control, eyes closed in agony. He wanted to have him angry, but not this way! He slumped into the white and rolled in a fetal position, curling up, trying to fight back or ignore the pain, to do anything to not break out in tears. _It hurt. So much, his whole face was on fire._ In this darkness, the hateful words reached him, only muffled, but echoed in his heart. _His mother had left him?_ It didn't fit to the things Quirin had told him, not at all, but in all this anguish, it suddenly seemed completely logical, his shocked mother, disgusted by his appearance no one could explain, maybe he was not even her child. Has she ever loved him? Has his dad only told him things to reassure him, sparing him from the truth? She was not here, she could be anywhere, dead or alive, loving or hating him. His head swirled. Although, he didn't even move and bile climbed up his throat, biting and making him even more sick. Finally his eyes snapped open, the cold air unpleasant in combination with the hot tears.  
"No! She didn't leave me!" he cried out in a desperate move. He shoved himself up, in a sitting position, wavering as the world spun, a blurry vision with no points he could focus. His face still burned, something hot was running down his skin, not tears, something different. With an ungainly motion, he wiped with his mitten over the spot above his lips, the wool smearing the liquid along. With difficulty, he finally was able to focus, the dark green yarn now tinted with red stains, blood, _his blood._ This realisation hit him, making the pain in his nose ignite even more, while his body went weak, then limp and the laughter of the children faded, like he would drift away, his blurry eyesight blurred further, went black on the edges in an instant, before he blacked out a heartbeat later.

Finally, he had turned the tables the way he wanted them. Almost. Varian still refused his words, but this time, they went right through him. He had listened, no snarky remarks trying to redirect the shame to Stephan. Not so easy to do when he had finally cracked, crying, a drop of blood running down his nose, soon sending him fainting. Typical. He may not remember much, but he was still the same person. The more he watched him, the more he was convinced that the village gossip was correct. This boy was not Quirin's son. Only in words. He called his brother, and the younger boy run to his side. Together, they grabbed Varian by the arms and dragged him to the shed. The winner of the game had now long been declared.

Muffled voices reached his ears, distant and cryptic. Slowly, his hearing improved, giggling and mumbling, shaping vaguely into words. Something pulled on his arms, both arms. _Had he fallen asleep in the lab, in a weird position as always? Dad would scold him!_ His eyes shot open as he felt caught, his father seeing him like this... but Varian was not where he had thought he would be, he glanced in amused faces, grinning and staring with glee. The boy flinched at the sight, and his head moved while his gaze darted around. The pulling was still present, his feet leaving trails in the snow as they shoved over the ground and as he craned his neck, he looked in the eyes of Stephan and Nickolas. The moment their gazes met, he knew it wasn't over yet. They didn't drag him to their home or his home or anywhere safe, they had a plan, an _evil_ plan, he could see this, feel this, their hatred almost radiated from them. "No! Nononono! Stop this! Let me go!" he shouted on top of his lungs, struggled to get away, moving and winding like an eel, trying to slip through their grip. His heartbeat raced, a drumming that filled his chest and resounded in his head. He was not afraid anymore, no, he was in panic, not knowing what would happen next, his mind still clouded, barely putting the pieces together, making Stephan angry had been a _very bad_ idea in the afterthought was the only thing he figured out clearly.

With a united motion, the brothers threw Varian into the shed, without much trouble, the boy only slightly heavier from their winter clothing. They made him hit the ground with a scratchy thud on the wood. Before Varian would have time to get up, they closed the door loudly, then a metal clanging could be heard, like a key in a lock. Someone kicked the door from the outside and then a voice followed. "I hope you like your new home, you good for nothing wizard!" he mocked, the poison evident on the little nickname that meant more than Varian could understand, with or without memories. The people, for as much as they smiled at Quirin and tried to be patient and understanding, they feared the boy, and so did their children.

The impact knocked him back to his senses, he was in the _shed_ , wooden and without any windows, the corners dark, filled with clutter and musty air. He gasped as the wheels in his mind turned and he whirled around and scrambled forward, to the light, the door, his only opportunity to escape. But the only exit, already, was about to close, the last bit of daylight vanishing right in front of him. He crashed onto the closed door, _the locked door_ , hands grabbing desperately for the handle, pulling and pushing, shaking it, while a hysterical mumble rolled over his lips. 'Nonononononono', this couldn't be, they would never lock him here, they would never... "Let me out!", he screamed, his fists banging on the wood, the wool of the mittens sticking a bit on the rough surface. "Let! Me! Out!"

Stephan tried to hold in his laughter, his crying and yelling befitting a raging five year old. Or maybe not ranging. This wasn't a temper tantrum. Varian was afraid. Honest to goodness afraid, scared beyond belief. Stephan had finally reached his goal. Now, he could simply make sure Varian would learn his lesson. "Why should we?! You are a threat! We are honestly better off without you!" he spat back, crossing his arms with a smug grin, as if he had done the right thing for his loved ones, his village, his home.

Varian froze as Stephan started to speak. His fist were leaning on the door, like his whole lower arms did. His eyes were darting around although, he couldn't see anything, the pupils, the only thing of his body that dared to move except his heart, which felt like it would push through his rib cage any moment. _He was a threat? No! Why? How could he be?_ His confusion caused his voice to crack, they were treating him so, so _unfair!_ "I'm-I'm no threat! I'm not!" He cried against the wood and his fist tightened. _He was not!_

"Oh yeah?! Say that to the houses your stupid water system blew up! Say that to the people who nearly got injured because of your carelessness!" he banged a fist on the wood, making sure to shake Varian, who was leaning on it. "People nearly got killed! How in the world are _not_ a threat?! Your mum was smart to run away and leave you with your fake dad!" he added, fully believing the gossips he has heard quite a few times between the adults.

Varian jolted at the sound, which came without any warning, reinforcing the cruel words. His breathing hitched as he tried to process the accusations. "Wha-What water system?! I-I haven't seen anything like that! I- I..." His voice broke and a shaky sob came over his lips, how in the world should he give any arguments while his mind was blank? Well, not exactly, he did remember his weird drawing, visualizing in front of his inner eyes now, the unknown things it had shown, the familiar feeling of the leather gloves, covering his fingers and this dream... No! He stopped his thoughts here, mulling over the pieces that didn't make any sense to him was, at the moment, nothing that could change the situation. He had to figure them out later. Another breath should calm him a bit, yet it missed the purpose, it only made him tremble slightly, shaking even his words. "I-I can't remember the things you talk about. I'm sorry that this had happened!" Had he really done this? Risked other people's lives? He couldn't change the past, but... "It won't happen again! I-I don't do things like that! I-I can't! I've forgotten everything, anyway!"

The hues of two laughs specifically, reached him the most, the voices very familiar by now. It didn't take a second guess to know who it was. "Yeah, sure you won't do it again! Not if we keep you in here!" he patted the wooden boards of the wall, leaning on it. "He is right! As if we'll let a freak of nature like you run around freely to ruin our lives, again!" a younger voice reached him, the other brother. "I mean, seriously, I can't believe Quirin insists having you around! When you aren't even his own child! Just a problem his wife left before fleeing with someone else!" he shouted, making sure to look at the wooden door, so Varian would hear him for sure.

The laughter that followed sounded malicious in his ears and his heart sunk. He hunched slowly forward, curling up a bit in instinct and his forehead, now leaned onto the wood, some rough wood fibers pricking into his skin. He didn't care. They told him he would stay here, they want to keep him here, a thought that made his stomach curl into tight knots, an awful feeling he hated by now and he gritted his teeth to suppress another sob. They, once again, brought up his mum, the woman he had no connection to, yet, no memory at all. Yet Quirin had told him she had loved him, cared for him and it sounded so appealing, he didn't want to give this piece his father gave him, away without a second thought. He _wanted_ to believe it. But they mentioned it so often, so certain, it hurt in his soul and the whispers they could be right tried to take the upper hand, fed by their words. "She wouldn't leave me..." He spoke it aloud, an attempt to convince himself, to hear it and take it by heart. It was meant for his own, yet loud enough for the others to hear. _She wouldn't, would she? Dad would have told me...Dad..._ This was the moment he realized something. His eyes grew wide as he noticed, it was so simple, so reassuring and it gave him hope.  
Dad. This man which had searched for him even in this storm, who had made sure he was safe and tried his best to help him. How could he forget? They tried so hard to make him feel lonely, he hadn't even thought about this. No matter what his mum had done or not, there was still his dad, and he cared for Varian, he did, without a doubt. "My dad..." He mumbled, but then, shifted to a louder tune. "You can't keep me here. My dad cares! My dad will search for me!" He spoke faster with every word, hope returning to him. He was not alone. He never was.

"Oh, I wouldn't count on that if I were you! Why should he go through all the trouble to search for you, when the entire village is better off getting rid of you? Do you seriously think he could love a son that isn't even his own? A constant reminder of why his wife left him with a freak like you? He just has an obligation to take care of you, doesn't mean he loves you or anything. I bet that if someone else stepped up, he'd gladly train them to be the next village leader." he went on and on, strutting confidently in front of the shed, never going to far, to ensure he was in earshot, still. Some of the kids had started to slowly retreat however, not fond on the sight of things. Some afraid that they might take a turn next, in the shed, with Varian no less. One of them commented about the time to someone else, voices low but audible.

"You are wrong." Stephan tried to even break Varian's trust to his dad, but he didn't have the logic on his side. This time, Varian was sure. His dad _would_ search for him! "He will search. And he will find me. He already has done this, whenI lost my memory. Not even the snow storm had stopped him. You are so wrong, Stephan, if he would have been the way you described, he already would have had the perfect opportunity. He didn't have to walk through this icy weather. But he did. So you better let me out." Varian felt all the sudden calmer, a silence spread in him. This shed was scary still, but he wouldn't be lost forever. His dad would find him eventually, bringing him home. It was soothing to know and Stephan doesn't appear as intimidating with his words as before.

"Or else, what, freak?" he spat, a sneer in his face and in his voice. "What are you gonna do? Tell 'your dad'?" he laughed, a few others mixing in as well. Then, a cautious voice of another kid was heard, commenting how it was starting to get dark, and having to return home soon. Another one backed him up, saying he also had to leave. Stephan clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "You guys go, I'll stay a little longer." and with that, the other kids left, Nickolas too. It was just Varian and Stephan, once more.

Stephan didn't take him seriously. And he would most, likely not change in this situation, Varian, still locked into the windowless shed, the other boy on the outside, holding the keys. The darkness felt uncomfortable and as the kids left, a heavy silence got to spread. Varian didn't move, reluctant to break this stillness, because it meant peace, a break from all this taunting and gossiping he had been forced to endure. But he also wanted to get out of here, the air felt heavy in his lungs and the smell was not the best. Breathing fresh winter air had never been this tempting. So he bit his lip, pushing himself for another try. "Please." He spoke not very loud, but slowly and clear. He wanted to get out of here. Without all the others, Stephan had no audience he had to impress, anymore. Maybe he kept behind to finally free him. It was the thing that made the most sense, angering his dad didn't seemed to be a very wise decision.

Varian was so wrong, oh so very wrong. Stephan was not planning to give up halfway through. He was going to finish what he started, no going back now. He simply broke into laughter at Varian's plea, as if 'the magic word' was going to be enough. "You can beg all you want. But put it well in your head. You are not welcome in this village. You never were! That's why you always hid at home. Heck, not even Quirin wanted to stay with you, he was always finding things to do outside the house. Face it... he is ashamed of you." he spoke, firm and certain, staring at the door.

Varian winced at the laughter that came from the other side of the door. It resounded in his heart and he felt he had already heard it, not today, not in this shed, but somewhere in his former life, more than once. Whispering, when he walked in the village, open laughs from children, when they had been on their own. _Your favourite game._ Maybe it wasn't even a complete lie, maybe they had cornered him a few times until he... finally hid. It made sense. So much sense that the tears pricked in his eyes. Dad hasn't known which friends he had because, in reality, he hasn't had any friends at all. Maybe he never had friends. Dad cared for him, he does, but living in a place where he was not liked... or worse... _hated_... was a horrible thought. But it seemed to be true, all those kids that had gathered around him... no one had looked with any guilt at him, no one had helped. And if the adults were the same... A silent tear rolled down his face and dropped to the ground. His father may care for him, but all Varian could offer was being a tiny boy, hated by the villagers, maybe someone who brought even trouble or had caused his wife to run away. And hasn't he been the one who had been too careless, having an accident and running around in the storm, making his dad worry and go out to search for him? He hadn't realized before, but his train of thoughts had brought him here, making him see different, opening his eyes. He had been blinded by the struggling to get his memory back, but now, Varian saw it, felt it, and his heart sunk so deep.  
...  
_He was nothing more than a burden._

A heavy silence had fallen. But to the miller's son, it was victory music. He had finally managed to shut up that smart-ass mouth of his. He did it. He had finally broken his defenses. He cackled silently, finally winning this fight, too. Was there any doubt? Of course not. That'd be ridiculous, to think that Varian ever stood a chance, simply because his memory loss caused him to forget his place in the village. But now, it seemed his work here was done. "You may have lost you memories, but remember this: Stay away from the villagers or I'll find you personally. Blow up another house and you'll regret being rescued by your fake dad... And if you are smart enough, you will stay here instead." he banged a fist on the wood and paced away, ready to leave now. "Now as much as I'd love to stay and chat more, it's getting dark. Not that it makes any difference to you, I guess. So, goodbye, freak. And remember, we don't ever want to see you again!" he finally finished, walking away at last. It was only Varian, the snow and the darkness, now. No soul for at least a few minutes of walking. Even if he were to call, nobody could hear him.

He was all alone now. The loud bang had died away, the crunching of the footsteps faded. Stephan was gone. It's not that he missed him, _not at all_ , but being alone in this place was not good either. The darkness surrounded him, crept closer, like a living thing. Some snow fell from the branches down at the roof of the shed, a sudden sound that startled him, he whirled around and pressed his back onto the door before he realized the source of the sound. A slight trembling stayed and he grabbed one of his arms in anxiety, like this makeshift hug could calm him. Slowly, he let himself slide down to the ground, his back still leaning onto the wood and he pulled his knees close and hid his face, forming a small ball, hiding from the darkness and this place and this reality. However, he couldn't hide from his thoughts. Now that he had called it, he couldn't deny it longer. What a bad son he must have been. All these things Stephan had told him... if even a bit of it was true...  
He pulled his legs closer in an attempt to get smaller, tiny, invisible, hidden from this world. But then, his knees pressed against his nose, the injury he had completely forgotten in this turmoil of events, but this move reminded him, sharp and clear, as the pain rushed through his face. He hissed in surprise and stretched his legs out again, far away from the nose, obviously too fast, because one of his legs hit some stuff that had been stacked there. He couldn't see how the pile crumbled, but he _felt_ it very well, some of the things raining down on his leg and hitting his shin bone. With gritted teeth, he suppressed a cry. It was so _typical_ , things just going wrong with whatever he touched, there was so much wrong in his life, so much. He craned his neck, resting the back of his head onto the wood, as he stared with open eyes into the dark. Tears ran down his cheeks, drop for drop like a never ending stream. This was his life? This was his future? And he would be the leader someday? _Varian, Quirin's son, leader of Old Corona... hated by the people around him._ He bit his lip and pressed his eyelids together as a sob shook his body. _He hated it. He hated it so much. He didn't want to... be..._  
"I don't... I don't want to be this... I don't want to be Varian, anymore." The words left his lips, shaky and loud and they sounded so different than in his thoughts, almost alien in his ears. Suddenly, he was sorry. He sat in this shed and cried like a baby. His gaze went down in embarrassment and he tried to wipe away the tears, carefully to not touch his nose and using only the mitten which wasn't stained with blood. The wind was howling outside and Varian felt the cold pushing through the gaps of the wood. How dark would it already be? _'Come home before it gets dark.'_ The words of his father resounded in him, making him remember. Dad had trusted him. To come back on his own. And what was he doing? Sitting around! Dad would surely come to search for him, no doubt, but simply sitting and waiting felt so wrong. He didn't want his dad to worry. To look out of the window with knitted brows and waiting for his return. To finally go outside to search. Again in the cold, the snow, the wind. No, dad should not pay again for Varian's misfortune! The boy slipped out of his mittens and stuffed them into his pockets. Then, he pushed himself forward, crawling on his knees while he touched the stuff that lay around him. He wouldn't give up. His finger brushed over something sharp, slicing open a bit of his skin, sending pain through his hand. He yelped, pulled back and grit his teeth together. _No fainting now, he couldn't even see the blood!_ The moment passed and he urged himself to search on, making a circle around the spot he had cut himself. It may be useful, but he was not keen on another cut. With gingerly touches, he scanned the area in front of him. Finally, he found something fitting, small enough to fit into the lock. He had never picked a lock before, but he had to and _he would_ figure it out somehow. Determined, he crawled back to the door. He could do this!

The silence in the house was near deafening. The lack of voices and movement and even explosions or something breaking, it was haunting. But Quirin knew better, this was a good sign. His son was out there, playing, finally interacting with the other kids, leaning to be young again and enjoy life. Varian had isolated himself for too long, too lonely of a life for a child to lead. He could only hope he had done the right choice. But he trusted Varian and the miller and his sons. They were good people as far as he knew. The parents at least. The kids must have been the same, then. He went on as normal, around the house, made some dinner, tidied up, finished off some laundry, until he run out of things to distract himself with. In reality, he was nervous. What if his son had trouble talking to them, not remembering anybody's name or what they were like for that matter. Quirin might had been out of his son's life a little too much, but even he knew that Varian had no friends. And that's certainly not what he had told the boy. But he still had hope, that the other children would make him feel at home. He thought all of this, looking out of the window, the sun was still in the sky for sure, Varian still having plenty of time to have fun with his new friends. He could imagine it almost, Varian smiling as they held snowball fights or even made their own snowmen. He could only hope he didn't leave his scarf or his hat behind by mistake. The phantom of a chuckle manifested in his throat and he left the window with a sigh. He'd be alright. He was certain. Although he was hopeful, his steps were heavy, tired, dragged down by a weight in his heart. He headed to his bedroom, kneeling at a wall and pulling a few stones out of the way. Then a big, dusty chest emerged from the shadows. In it, all of Quirin's valuables, the things he had tried so many years to hide, waiting for the day that Varain would be ready. But also, things he wanted to keep as safe as possible. An old, soft blanket was one of them. The piece of fabric was small, barely fit to cover even Varian right now. But it did belong to him. He held it in his hands, sitting on his bed as he eyed it. So many memories, better days, when his wife was there with him too, Varian's mother, all three of them living happily, just like in the portrait. His eyes looked from their painted bliss, to the small, blue blanket. Tears pricked his eyes. 'What went wrong...' he thought, the guilt settling in finally, squeezing his heart. So many times he wished he could hit restart, to have done things differently, to have done thing correctly. But Varian losing his memory, was not at all what he wished for. Instead of lying to keep him safe, he wished he could have prevented the misfortunes before they happened. He held the blanket tighter now, keeping it close to his chest as a few tears fell from his eyes. He was no stranger to lying to Varian. He had to. He couldn't share his past, not yet, and especially not now. _But the alchemy..._ It was a part of Varian, the very thing that had consumed him, living just to do this very thing. It was his everything. But the cost, was too much. The destruction and the danger. He simply couldn't allow it. He could only hope he wouldn't go back to his old habits. It was the right decision. And yet, it hurt to think about. Yet another thing to hide from his son, a part of Varian himself. He stayed there for a while, lamenting on his choices. He only hoped Varian wouldn't return to find him like this, not before he could calm down. But then, hours passed, the tears long dried now. The light slowly fading. It was getting dark. Thankfully, no storm seemed to be coming their way. He could trust Varian to return on his own, even counting on the other kids to assist him. He put everything away, as if he never took the chest out of the wall. _'He'll be fine.'_

He did it! He really did it! Varian hurried through the snow, the light of the windows of the houses guiding him to the village. In the dim light, everything looked a bit different, darker, just like how his own day went. But he had no time to think about it. He ran over to the square, ignoring that he risked to slip and fall. He was late, way too late and he should better speed up. The last sun rays had already vanished behind the mountains, the darkness was about to settle in. Quirin had asked him to come back _before_ this would happen, and the boy could only hope his father was not already on his way. His sight hopped with every flying step he made, the castle came closer and with relief, he saw lit windows. On the steps of the castle, he stopped for a moment, his breathing made thick clouds, while he tried to calm down. Varian didn't know how he looked like and he didn't want to shock his dad. He slipped out of the mittens and took the clean one to rub over his face, avoiding to touch the nose, but rubbing careful at the place he had found the blood. Then he stored the mittens in his pockets. He could deal with them later. With a deep breath, he straightened his posture and pushed his shoulders back. At last, he combed with his fingers through the hair - the moment were he realized he had lost his hat somewhere in this chaos. Most probably as Stephan pulled on his hair. He hadn't noticed, but now he wished he had, losing something Quirin had given him, made him feel bad. But it was too late to go back and search for it, so he could only move forward and he stepped on and shoved the door open. "Dad? Dad? I'm home!"

The dark sky made Quirin worry. He threw a new log into the fire, pacing again through the room. His steps were fast like his nervous heartbeat, wondering if Varian was just running late. Maybe he had forgotten about the time. Or someone had invited him for dinner? Probably the child had just forgotten to tell him in his joy. All reasons were plausible. Nothing bad, nothing to worry. No lost child which was wandering alone through the forest... _Stop_.... Stop. This was it. His thoughts drifted away. He couldn't wait any longer, he would just go mad. With a quick pace, he rushed out of the room, when suddenly, the voice of his son could be heard, making him look up hopefully and he hurried around the corner. "Varian!" He was there. He came back. All on his own. All this worry had been pointless, what a luck! The father had to hold himself back, he would love to run to his son, maybe even hug him, but Varian would probably feel uncomfortable or Quirin could give him the impression he should better stay at home and it was not his intention to guide him the wrong way. So he approached him with wide, but not too fast steps, smiling at him. "Son! You are back, just in time. How was your day?" But then his smile faded, having a better look at his boy made his heart miss a beat. His nose was swollen and red, a faint red line telling him it had bled too. His hair was wild and wet, the hat missing, as well as his mittens. Overall, Varian looked tired and worn out and not happy at all. His heart sunk and he hurried the last steps again, crouching down swiftly as he embraced him carefully. "Oh, Varian." He stroke over the wet hair. Whatever had happened, it must had been horrible, not at all like the day he had wished him. It was his fault. He should have known better. Let him play with younger kids, maybe? But it was too late, the damage done and Varian trembled slightly, probably because of the cold or it was the shock or even both. Quirin pulled him a bit closer, ignoring how damp the clothes were, he wanted to reassure him somehow, make up for this awful experience he had given him. "I'm so sorry." Finally the words rolled over his lips, quiet and full of regret. He should have planned better, taking it slow. He had rushed and Varian had paid the price.

Varian had finally reached home, the one place where he knew he'd be safe, away from the coldness of the world. The warmth that embraced him once he closed the door behind him felt as if he had entered an invisible safety barrier, nothing could harm him in here. Heavy steps came from another room, getting louder, along with a voice, drenched in blissful ignorance of the events that had taken place in Varian's day. But unfortunately, it couldn't stay that way for long. The man first approached with a calm cheerfulness, not over the top, just relieved to see him and interested in his day, his expectations pointing to a fantastic one. But reality couldn't be further from that vision. Varian simply stared at him, eyes red and irritated, his nose a mess, same with his hair, flecks of dried blood above his upper lip. He had not managed to get a single word out, when his father read the clues, already getting some sort of answer. He approached closer, the man wrapping his arms around him, encasing him almost. Varian couldn't help but freeze, his earlier battle showing him that close contact like this was only used to to be aggressive. To intimidate. And Quirin's huge frame did not help refute those claims. He was shaking, afraid that his father was angry at him, not sure what for, maybe the hat, maybe because he lost the fight. He didn't know. He gulped, trying desperately to keep his nose from touching anything. But then, he felt a big hand stroking his hair, the voice of the father low and sorrowful. And then, the unthinkable. He even apologised. Quirin was the one saying 'sorry'. What for? Varian couldn't understand. This behaviour was new to him, and this interaction, being held close to someone who he felt safe with and knew he mattered to, it was also new. But he slowly started to get used to it, the sense of security making him lean on him more, always keeping his face so his nose wouldn't touch something. It was so bizarre, he liked the embrace, even with his arms dangling helplessly next to him, uncertain of what to do with them. And yet, it made him feel as if he had been punched in the gut, his chest tightening, eyes welling up with hot tears, burning and stinging as his breath hitched. Finally, his hands reached up to Quirin's shirt, tugging on it as he sobbed, trembling even more.

Varian had frozen in Quirin's embrace and the father was almost afraid he had made it even worse, making the boy uncomfortable was the least thing he wanted to add to this day. But then Varian reached up and held onto Quirin, finally his wall broke and the feelings came free. The father gave him some seconds, gently stroking his back and hair. Everything was damp and cold and the trembling made him worry. With a calm and quiet voice he spoke up.  
"Varian, son, let's go to the fireplace, you need warmth." He drew a bit back, but not releasing the boy completely yet. With concern, he scanned his beaten face, his gaze wandering to the nose, the spot that worried him the most. "And I want to take a look at your nose." Quirin needed to treat it, checking if it was broken. For Varian's sake, he hoped so much it was not. The boy had seen enough for today, he didn't want to drag him to the doctor on top of that.

All the boy could do, was give a trembling nod as he drew in a shaky breath, the tears still running, his chest spasming. He finally managed to take a look at Quirin's face, the father's eyes so full of worry and sadness, he had never seen anything like it, except for yesterday, when he was trying to make him remember. He didn't like seeing him like this. It didn't fit his stoic air. The type of person whom you'd never even imagine breaking, but there he was, looking as if he had lost something meaningful to him. Varian let go of his shirt at last and followed him to the fireplace, bracing himself, trying to imitate the hug they just shared, half trembling from the cold, half from his own storm of emotions.

"Wait here, until I bring you dry clothes." Quirin let him sit down next to the fire, on the floor for now, but the flames had done a good job, warming everything close to them. With a gentle motion, he stroke over the boy's hair. "I'll be back in a minute." He hated to leave him now, yet he couldn't let him stay longer in the cold, wet clothing or leave his nose untreated. With fast steps, he ran around in the castle, picking up everything he needed, hurrying up and downstairs with all his arms full. Finally he returned, placing all the things on the floor. "Okay." Quirin picked up the new clothing again, he had already chosen the boy's nightgown, since it was night anyway, and comfy on top of that. "Here." He handed it to the child. "Change into that, I'll go get an extra blanket." It was easy. His mind gave him simple tasks, a guideline. First step, second, and so on. Moving, hurrying, doing something, saving him from his own thoughts, he had to concentrate on other things, just like now. He had walked over to a chest on the wall, picking out one of the bigger blankets, the softest he could find, almost as soft as the baby blanket he had also found today. His fingers curled into the fabric. This was a good one, pleasant and warm for sure. He pulled the fabric out of the chest, wrapping it a bit on his arm. He waited a moment, standing like this with his face to the wall. "Can I come back?" Quirin didn't know what exactly had happened yet and he wanted to be careful, not too pushy or casual. He had to keep in mind that Varian still had lost his memory.

Varian had curled up again, trembling violently, a familiar chill covering his skin. He at least extended his hands to the fire, to warm them up. The crying had been reduced to just silent tears, his breathing still a bit messy, but he could manage. While he had flinched at Quirin's touch at first, he liked the gesture, it was comforting for some reason, some tune and a couple of words popping into his mind, as if it was reminding him something. But then the man was gone, rushing about with a stomping jog. He wasn't gone for long, but in the meantime, so many thoughts rushed in all at once, making him curl up into himself again, burying his face in his knees, careful with his nose. The urge to cry was strong, very strong. His eyes shut firmly, biting his lip to stop it from quivering. Then Quirin was back again, a relief to see him, but then he was once more gone, telling him to change into the nightgown. Varian sighed a little defeated, but got rid of the coat and scarf pretty quickly, the weight finally off of his back. Then he heard Quirin asking from a distance, another room, if he could come back. It did help him trust him a bit more, the father clearly showing that he respected his privacy. Moments later, Varian called for him, having changed and curling up near the fire, sitting on the pillow like he had done yesterday.

He had waited for the response, finally coming back with the fluffy bundle, approaching the boy at his sitting place. "Okay, here we go." With a slow and wide motion, he placed the blanket around the child's shoulders, making sure the front overlapped enough to keep him warm. He gave him a soft smile, pushing some bangs away that stuck at his forehead. Before the father sat down next to Varian, he picked up the towel he had brought earlier and unfolded it. The hair was still wet and he couldn't let it be this way, even in front of the golden light of the fire and its radiating warmth, there was too high a risk he could catch a cold. He leaned closer and covered the damp strands with the towel, rubbing the hair dry with careful moves. His gaze laid on Varian, and he still felt the guilt heavy in his chest, squeezing his heart at the sight of the reddish nose and the watery eyes. "Hey." He put the towel aside and looked at his son. Between all this rushing, he hadn't noticed how lost the boy looked, clearly in safety now, but fighting against the tears. Maybe the nose could wait for some minutes.

The boy watched him and then held the blanket close to himself, trying to hide it in, when Quirin put a towel on his hair, trying to get them to dry. He let out a sigh, simply trying to relax at the motion. Again, the song fragments returned to his head. They were bits and pieces, a broken melody, but it was there, small and quiet and in shards. He didn't even realise how he was staring at the fire blankly, head low, blue eyes swimming in a puddle of tears on his eyelids. He had stopped trembling from the cold now, but the millions of knot in his stomach made him tremble a little. _Why would they do this to him?_ They had told him already why, though. Didn't mean he understood it. He didn't know if he wanted to understand, either. What could he have possibly done to deserve to be treated this way? They had said a lot of horrible things, mostly disasters that they claimed he caused. Were they true? Could he believe them or did they just say it to hurt him, for whatever reason. And if they were honest, what about his father? And his mother? Were they right about that as well? Was he really an illegitimate child? He finally snapped out of his thoughts, Quirin's voice making him turn his head a little to face him. Glassy, blue eyes stared at him, with their full attention.

Varian looked up now, the new angle letting the unshed tears glisten in the firelight, gold mixing with the bright blue. They boy didn't make an attempt to speak, patiently waiting for Quirin to start. The father had hoped Varian would simply start to speak, telling him what had happened. But his son had never been this way, always bottling things up and pretending he would be alright or remaining in stubborn silence. But this was an incident he couldn't hide and Quirin wanted to know, wanted to help, but he had no clue how to start, lacking experience at this topic. He almost would have reached for his neck, but he stopped himself before the hand left his lap. "Varian..." He held the eye contact and his deep voice was more careful than ever. "...do you want to talk about... what happened?" It was not like Quirin had much difficulties with talking. At the court, with the villagers, it could be small talk or the complicated language on court, no problem at all. But here and now, was different. Starting such a heavy talk made his throat dry and even a sneaky gulp didn't help much. He gulped again, waiting if Varian would open up. He didn't have to and Quirin wouldn't push him either, but still, the man hoped so much Varian would tell him, so he could do anything more than just guessing and making assumptions.

He felt conflicted. Part of him never wanted to mention today ever again. But there was too much emotion to hold in. Plus, there was another thing. He didn't know what his old self would have done. Would he tell him everything? Only a few things? Nothing at all? He didn't know himself, not a single bit, and all the things the others had told him, only confused him further. He had so much to ask, yet so much more that he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. 'Alright, let's take it from the top. He asked what happened... not what they said...' he told himself and he drew in a deep breath, exhaling calmly. He could let him know what they did. Their words can be discussed later. "Well, first we were walking and talking a little and they said we were going to some sort of hideout we used to go to..." already his voice shook, the lie feeling like an old wound he had opened without realising. Regardless, he fought it and carried on, feeling as if he was stepping on nails with every word. "Then, Nickolas left and Stephan... he- he kicked me down and pulled on my arm and my hair-. He-e-e said it was a game! A-and that I used to like it too!" he said, stopping for a moment to catch his breath as another tear rolled down his cheek. It was all too much to try and remember. But he figured he owed Quirin an explanation for why he was running late.

Varian hesitated first, clearly pondering if he should really talk. But finally, he started to speak and the first sentence sounded more like a report. The more he spoke, the more emotional he got, his voice shaking and cracking, stumbling over the words while he rushed through the events. Quirin kept quiet, he let the boy speak, didn't want to disrupt this flood of emotions, which finally were breaking free. The father pressed his lips together, it was hard to listen, so hard. He had wished so much Varian would have a good day. But instead of this, he sat here, a little bundle, wrecked and mistreated with a trembling voice and tears that rolled down. Quirin reached out, carefully, placing his palm on Varian's cheek as he brushed one of the teardrops away with his thumb. His eyebrows were knitted deeply, as he watched him with sad eyes, his heart so heavy in his chest, that he almost started to cry too. But he kept strong, breaking out in tears wouldn't help his son, but instead, it'd make him stop. No, Varian should pour his heart out, telling more, because there was more, way more, Quirin could tell this from the way the boy looked at him.

He flinched and froze a little at Quirin's touch, holding his breath and looking at him straight in the face. Only calming down again, when he realised it was an affectionate gesture, not meant to hurt him. He finally let go of the breath he held and sniffled, trying to get back on track again. "Then, he pulled me outside of a shed... and he demanded that I'd fight him. All the other kids were there, but none of them did anything! They- they just laughed." his voice broke in the last part. Still unable to believe that they could bare to watch this happen. Let alone cheer Stephan and encourage him. "I tried to reason with him, I really did! But he kept saying all these hurtful things and- and then he punched me in the face and I saw the blood and I fainted and they threw me in the shed-. A-and even then they wouldn't stop saying horrible things to me!" he sobbed, curling up even more, almost hiding in his blanket. Even if it was over, he still wanted to hide. What would his father think of him now? He'd probably see him as weak, that he deserved it. The boys had said that Varian used to do this all the time, and that he always lost. And come to think of it, it unfortunately did ring a bell...

Hearing that even other kids were there, not helping Varian in his misery, but enjoying watching it, like a gruesome event, was almost impossible to bear. It was no fight between kids, which would be horrible enough, no brawl that came up while playing, no, they guided his son to a place to beat him up and humiliated him in front of many kids, an amused audience. His stomach knotted at this thought, only the attempt to imagine the scene made him stiff up. He took his hand away, placing it in his lap, he really didn't want to show how upset he was, but his expression darkened and his hands turned to fists, as he fought against the wave of anger that welled up. Why exactly had he ran around from house to house, talked with all those children and parents? He had thought this way, everything would go well. But it hasn't gone well. All those kids - they had known Varian's state, he had asked them to be nice and what had happened? They had let him down, not only the miller's sons. He closed his eyes and breathed in, long and deep while his chest widened. But this didn't matter now. He shouldn't be angry. Not now, Varian needed him. As he opened his eyes again, they were full of sorrow and he searched for Varian's eyes, watery, looking up to him, fearful like he would scold him now. Words failed him, his throat felt like being strangled, anyway. So he bowed forward, embracing the child gently with his big arms, even leaning his cheek on Varian's hair, surrounding him whole like a huge shield. "I'm so sorry..." His voice was rough as he quietly mumbled those words, he may have repeated himself, but he meant it, he was sorry, deeply sorry. Instead of a great day, his son had lived a nightmare.

He let himself get lost in the embrace, still tugging at his blanket. Always mindful of his nose. His breath hitched again, another round of sobs leaving him. And there it was again, the apology, as if Quirin was responsible for this in any way. Varian was the one to ask him to bring him there, to meet these people, hopeful that he will remember something, something good, happy memories, the kind people think about fondly about their childhood. But this isn't what he got. He instead remembered other times they were roughhousing, other times his fellow village children had treated him this way, other times they had screamed insults at his face and Varian ran home crying, to a room that he couldn't quite remember seeing in their house, but it didn't seem like his bedroom either. He remembered it all. Vivid and real and nightmarish. At least he had learned a few things that he was certain about. People hated him, and in return, he hid away from the world. And even if that wasn't the case before, he certainly would now. As for the things the others said, he didn't know which were true and which weren't, conflicting information that didn't want to believe, but seemed logical. He had to get answers. And hopefully, this time, Quirin would be honest. Once the tears subsided, he tried to steady his voice and asked quietly, a little scared "Is it true that my mum left with my real dad...?".

Quirin's eyes grew wide at this question. _Real dad? They really told him things like that?_ His mouth had opened a bit in a quiet gasp and he shook his head slowly. How dare they? He curled a bit more around Varian, stroking gently the back of his head. "It's not true. It is not. How did they get this idea anyway? I'm your father. And the woman in the drawing, this is your mother. There is no other man."

He could feel him tremble, his heartbeat easily distinguishable in his chest. It was clear that Varian's question has upset him. Even the way he embraced him more, as if he were afraid he'd lose him. And yet, his voice was calm, and certain. But Varian still had doubts. Could he believe him? He wanted to! He so much wanted to! But their voices echoed in his mind. He wasn't sure. And he didn't know if the man would ever cave down and admit to Varian that he wasn't his real father. If that were even the case. 'There is no other man.' he let the phrase sink in. He hoped and begged for it to be true. But even if it wasn't, he didn't care, it was Quirin who had cared for him up until now, not the other stranger. All he wanted, however, was for his father to be honest, real or not. "Are you sure, sir...?" he asked, his voice nearly a dead whisper, tired and fearful.

Varian's voice reached his ear and pierced his heart. He didn't believe him? The other kids had truly made him uncertain, it seems. But as unsure Varian was, Quirin was just as sure. His wife had loved him, cared for him deeply and he had never suspected such a thing, not a moment in his whole life. There was no reason to do so. Varian was his son, he knew it since the moment he held him in his arms for the first time. Quirin drew a bit away, not far, just far enough to look Varian in the face. Their eyes met and the father's gaze was calm and loving. With a soft move he pushed some bangs out of the child's sight and placed his hand on Varian's cheek. A smile appeared on his own, slightly wrinkled face as his gaze rested some heartbeats long on his son. "There is not the smallest doubt."

He left how he drew away from the hug. Suddenly, Varian feared he had said something wrong. But then, the man smiled, looking at him as if he were his entire world. Then how he brushed his hair out of the way, even if the colours didn't match his own hair, ending the motion by cupping his cheek. A smile followed, then those words. 'No doubt'. It felt so impossible, and yet, it felt right. He didn't care if it was a lie or truth, he had made up his mind. Quirin was his father, and he refused to let that change. He teared up, bringing his hands up to wipe his eyes. With all this turmoil and uncertainty, he finally remembered another thing, another important piece of himself. Quirin loved him. He wasn't sure how he felt about him before he lost his memories, but Varian couldn't help but return that feeling now, the only person he could trust and feel safe around. The only one who had treated him with any kindness or affection ever since he forgot himself. He hugged him tightly, trying to hide again like before. Shaking. Trembling all over. "Wh-what about my mum... was she afraid of me? Was I dangerous?" he asked, preparing himself for what the answer might be.

Quirin could see that Varian believed him now, truly, with his full heart. The way the child looked at him, how he wiped away the tears, more calm now, before he reached out to cling onto him again. With his big hands, he stroked in a slow rhythm along the tiny back, noticing how Varian started to tremble again. The father girded himself internally and, like he had assumed, two more questions followed. The first one was luckily an easy one, he could answer it with a certain voice. "Your mother loved you, you were her treasure." Quirin's thoughts drifted back to the time when Varian had been a newborn. How her eyes had sparkled, although she had been exhausted, the smile on her lips as they saw each other. Then, the first day Varian had left the house with her, wrapped in his blanket and the baby sling, a tiny bundle on her chest. Oh, how proud she had spoken about her sweet baby boy, nearly bragged in front of the villagers. "She had never left your side while you were little, carried you in the baby sling and hummed to you during housework. She was not afraid at all. Why should she? She was so proud of you, you were a fast learner and loved to explore things. And you were fast... so fast..." Quirin chuckled softly as he thought about how they had to search for him so often, whenever they dared to look away for a moment, their baby boy vanished, already on a new mission to explore his surrounding. "You were a whirlwind."

Varian let out a chuckle, stuffy and clogged with tears, just like his throat. He tried to imagine it, the sound of it all, too good to be true, especially after today's mishaps... Not only she was not afraid, she was proud of him. For some reason, that made him smile, crooked and jittery, but a smile no less. It hurt to think that she was no longer with them, their taunting and mean words making him forget what had truly happened to her. She was dead. Many years now. He felt a little ashamed to assume she would do such a thing in the first place. It's not likely that Quirin would speak of her with so much love if she had broken his heart. No, it was the others who were wrong about her. And about his father, and Varian himself for that matter! Quirin had also mentioned she sang to him. Could it be that the words and melodies he barely remembered, were actually hers? "I... think I remember her song..." he replied, uncertain yet determined. But mostly, exhausted.

Quirin's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You do?" He looked happily at his son, the child had gotten another bit of his memory back! "That's marvelous." A broad smile appeared. Varian, not only remembered pieces of the recent past, but also very old ones, memories of his mother the father could never give him back, only reconstruct in stories that must sound like tales for the boy. But now, Varian had recalled it on his own, the melody, a part of his childhood. "Do you... want to sing it?" Quirin was not a great singer, but he had loved to listen to his wife. He would love to listen to his son too.

He saw how his father lit up, full of hope for him. But then, he asked him if he wanted to try sing it, to which Varian could only respond with going red, looking away a bit bashfully. He didn't know if he was any good at singing. What if he tried and he sounded terrible? He didn't want to embarrass himself by messing it up. Not such a beloved moment from the past. Beside... "I don't think I remember all the words..." he replied, finally looking at Quirin and raising his shoulders.

Varian suddenly went shy, with reddish cheeks he tried to avoid eye contact. Quirin tilted his head a bit as he followed the motion. Was Varian too nervous to sing? His little boy who had chortled as a baby as soon as his mum started and sung along once he was able to speak? Maybe he couldn't remember. But Quirin hasn't given up yet, he listened to Varian's reply, it was almost an excuse. "I see." He thought about it, searching for a way to not end this topic here, the song a perfect opportunity to brighten up this terrible day. "What if we hum it together?"

After giving it some thought, he looked at him again. He wanted to remember, might as well put in the effort. He nodded, ignoring how his nose continued to throb, and waited for his father to take initiative, in case he got the beginning all wrong. There were still questions boiling and stirring inside him, but they could wait. For now, he wanted to shut the outside world out, as much as possible.

Quirin was glad Varian agreed, bright blue eyes, now looking in anticipation at him. It seemed like he waited for Quirin to begin, he made no attempt to hum. The father knew he was not the best singer, but humming should work. He cleared his throat first, recalling the melody in his head in this time. The man hasn't heard the tune for a long time, but it came back, resounding within him, faint and unclear. With closed eyes he started, picking up the first notes with a deep hum. He was not sure how it would go on, but he just kept going, note for note came back to his mind just in time, the so familiar melody, slowly evolving in the room.

He was uncertain, but a breath later, he tried to follow the tune, what little pieces he had, he tried to connect them in the melody, best he could. It was a clunky start, but he soon picked up the melody, effortlessly following his father's humming. Varian had also closed his eyes, mirroring Quirin, soon after. But before he could realise, those few words that appeared in his mind, soon made their way on his tongue, leaving his lips so easily, as if he had sang this song a million times before. He started leaning towards Quirin, soon resting his head on his father's shoulder, his eyes remaining closed. His voice was not strained or timid, the boy naturally good at singing, all his insecurities having faded for good. All that could be heard was his singing, Quirin's humming and the crackling of the fire. A truly warm atmosphere that could melt even the most powerful snowstorms. It was at that moment, Varian was certain that he was really his father, none else. His only family, all that he had left in this world. None else mattered to him now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sledging accident, Varian lost his memory, completely.  
> When Quirin found him like this, it became clear that it wouldn’t be an easy task to awaken his memories again, that is if the boy really should remember everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction is a collaboration with nyxglitch on tumblr (https://nyxglitch.tumblr.com/)! It is an rp that's why the passages will switch the points of views.
> 
> warnings: mention of blood and injury

A peaceful smile graced Quirin's face. The warmth, his son on his side, singing his mother's beloved song, this moment was so perfect. He wished it would last longer, the melody so soft and soothing, creating a placid atmosphere, as it touched their hearts. But then, the lyrics ended and both came to an end, the last note faded away. Quirin slowly opened his eyes, almost drowsy, like waking up from a dream. His gaze went to Varian, the child still leaning on him. The boy's face had softened due to the song and he had clearly calmed down. Still, his face reminded Quirin of the trouble, the boy had experienced today, the nose red and swollen, calling for treatment. "Varian?" The father whispered softly, he didn't want to destroy the mood abruptly with his loud and rough voice, so he kept the volume low. "Son, I better take a look at your nose now."

Varian was nearly asleep, all of his earlier adrenaline having vanished for good. When Quirin spoke, he nodded and hummed in acceptance, but not moving an inch from his new pillow, his hiding spot. He felt so safe, so undeniably and incredibly safe, fully forgetting who lived only a couple of kilometers away. And all the hurtful things they had spat at him, the song having driven them all away, like a spell to protect him from all harm. If it wasn't for his nose, he would have fallen asleep already. Slumber calling him, like a siren to the ocean. His eyes still closed, the golden glow of the fire passing through his eyelids, with little trouble.

Varian didn't look up or turned to him, but still approved. It was not easy this way, but he also refused to rouse the boy. The father turned his head more and looked closer to the injury. It had bled slightly, a hint of a trail still visible, but it looked like it hasn't been an alarming amount. The shape also hasn't changed, at least from the angle he had at the moment. He could later check from the front too. So far, it was promising, maybe the nose was not broken. One last thing he should try, to be sure. He lifted his hand, but then he hesitated, hovering with it over the boy's face. "I... Varian... I will touch it, it will hurt a bit."

"Sure, go ahead..." he mumbled, as he exhaled, not fully aware of what what being said. Or rather, the thought that his nose is injured had not come across his mind yet, everything in his head moving slower, sluggishly, as if getting ready to sleep. He just rested there, unmoving, taking slow and deep breaths, about to fall asleep any minute.

Quirin believed his confirmation and went on. As careful as possible, he touched the bridge of the nose, tried to feel if something was out of place, holding his own breath, while hoping the best.

Varian quickly retreated at his touch, wincing and hissing, the pressure enough to make him whine and scramble a bit, away from Quirin, his hand covering his bruised nose. He hadn't broken anything, but it was certainly a pretty good hit.

The touch had lasted long enough to let Quirin feel a bit. There hasn't been anything that should him let worry. He breathed out in relief. "It seems like it isn't broken. That's good." The man rose to his feet. "I will get something to cool it a bit."

He shook his head to wake up, realising what had just happened. Then calmed down again, sighing and curling up next to the fire, the blanket still on him. As he moved, he noticed a dull pain on his side, and a stinging on his hand. He had noticed them before too, but paid them no mind, too shaken to care. But now, it felt like it was worth taking a look, just in case. He turned his hand, to look at his palm, a shallow cut running through his fingers. Whatever he had found in that shed, it was sharp. Perhaps it was an axe for firewood. It would make sense to keep it there. As for the discomfort on his side, it was obvious how or when he got it. He still didn't understand why he was kicked though. Stephan claimed it to be justice, what he deserved for something he had done. But was it really? Only one way to find out, now...

Quirin had ran for cold water and came back with a damp towel. When he walked in, he saw Varian watching his palms. Did he have other injuries too? He must know if there was something else to take care of! The father paced a bit faster and walked to the boy's side and his scanning gaze captured the cut. "You have more wounds!" Quirin crouched down, to get at the same level as his son. "Son, please, is there anything more besides the nose and the cut?" If he ended up overlooking something and the injury got infected, he wouldn't forgive himself for his carelessness. How did he not see this open wound on his hands?

The sudden tone and movement, alarmed the boy, making him close his palms and hold them close to himself. He just stared at Quirin, almost afraid for an attack, but he quickly came to his senses. 'It's just dad.'. He let his shoulders drop ad opened his palms again, registering Quirin's question, looking him in the eyes. He gave it some thought. He didn't recall anything else. He dared even say, he came out in pretty good shape, considering how Stephan and the others were acting towards him. His memory drifted to other times, where a broken nose or a black eye were mere results of his own clumsiness, or an accident or just about anything that did not direct the blame to its real source. It was such a shame. Out of all the things he could remember, it just had to be this... He couldn't remember why they did what they did... but then a single word returned to his head. 'Dangerous'. Was he really dangerous? Had he really done all the things he was accused of? They already lied about his mother. But why would they just beat him, for no reason? It did not add up. He blanked out for a moment, as he remembered, shaking his head suddenly and blinking fast. "N-no, I'm... fine." he replied, only having one more bruise that they couldn't exactly do something about.

For a moment, Varian got startled, hiding his cut from Quirin, like he would expect scolding, fearful eyes looked up and focused on the father. However, his posture eased up, some seconds later, and he gave Quirin's question some thought. The man waited patiently, as Varian stayed silent, lost in thoughts, only the crackling of the fire filling the room. Some heartbeats passed and Quirin almost thought Varian wouldn't give him any answer, as the boy suddenly moved and denied. This took a great load off the father's mind. No further, potentially dangerous, injuries were good news. Quirin nodded gladly and relaxed finally, he had stiffed up during the wait without noticing. "Very well. So first... let's cool your nose a bit." He folded the fabric a tad smaller and held it carefully against the nose, almost without a touch, he didn't want his son to flinch away again. "I think it would be best if you hold the towel now, but please, use your unharmed hand. In the meantime, I'll take a look at the cut, alright?" It didn't look very bad at first glance, but nevertheless, he wanted to take care and treat it, at least it should be cleaned anyway.

"O-okay." he replied, holding out his scratched hand, keeping the towel on his nose with the other.The cool cloth was more of a relief than he expected, his nose slightly burning ever since the punch landed there. According to Quirin, it wasn't broken, which was a huge relief. He could have sworn, he felt it break and a crunching was heard, but it could have just been the snow. He let out a tired sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, still able to see the fist dashing for his face, as if it happened seconds ago.

Luckily, Quirin had already brought all the things he'd need, while he had been running around the house earlier, just in case the nose would have needed further treatment. Now, he grabbed the things and took a look at the hand instead. Like he had assumed, it was just a shallow cut, nothing too serious. They just needed to keep an eye on it a few days and disinfect it as well. The man opened the bottle of alcohol and let a bit of it, soak into a clean piece of fabric. With his own hand underneath Varian's, he steadied it and wiped carefully the blood away, cleaning everything close to the wound. Without the smeared, red stains, the injury looked even smaller than before. The father decided that he didn't need to wrap it, fresh air would help better to let the cut heal fast. "Finished." He let go of the hand, looking his son in the eyes again. "Does the cooling help? And you have no problems with breathing?"

Varian hissed as Quirin worked on his hand, trying not to flinch too much, but the initial stinging caught him off guard. Thankfully, it was over fairly quickly. Then, the question followed, Varian looking up at him, still keeping the towel in place. "I-it's fine, I think." he replied, even though breathing through his nose was a slightly scary thing to try now, afraid it might hurt, again. He attempted it, however, only slight discomfort as his nose moved.

"I'm glad." He reached out and stroked over the child's hair. At least the physical wounds of this day, would vanish soon. The father had to think about a way to make up for today, give Varian better experiences, making things right again. He also would need to talk about this topic with the villagers and alone the thought of discussing it with the miller, gave him a stomach ache. What a mess! His gaze had darkened at these thoughts, giving him a serious look, with tight closed lips. But then, he remembered, he was still with his son, blinking at this realization. His focus came back to Varian, blue eyes looking up behind a towel, which covered a part of his face. His eyes softened again, and he tried to cover up his thoughts. "It's late already, maybe we should go to sleep. Are you tired?"

The boy yawned, stopping mid motion from the aching on his nose, making a grunting noise. "Just a bit." he replied, even thought he was exhausted. But he still had questions, things he wanted to ask. Plus, he didn't really want to leave the fire, the cozy warmth keeping him in place, reassuring in its security. Thinking of his questions made him tremble slightly, the soft blanket around him, helping to ease the feeling, only a little.

Varian denied the question, but a yawn gave him away. Quirin raised, amused, an eyebrow, it was like Varian was seven again. But then, the boy started to shake, something that made Quirin worry. "Varian, are you cold?" Had the boy cooled down too much during the day? Was he ill? The father slipped out of one of his gloves and placed his palm on the child's forehead, a serious look, as he checked the temperature.

"I'm not cold, don't-... don't worry..." he replied, trying to hide again, but there was no escape from the upsetting thoughts, making him tremble and his gut twisting a million different ways. He couldn't have possibly been dangerous, could he? How in the world did he even cause any devastation? He just liked to read and draw, how on earth did that make houses explode?! Something didn't add up. And he needed to know. They couldn't just hate him for no reason. "Dad-... Is it true that everyone hates me?... And why?" he looked at Quirin tiredly, eyes pleading for the truth.

The reply relieved Quirin, as well as the temperature of the boy. He didn't have a fever, thank goddess. But what was it then? The father didn't have to wait long for a further hint, Varian's trembling voice reached his ear. He would have been glad about how much his boy opened up today, but the question itself felt like a hit in the stomach. _Hated him?_ Quirin knew that they had sometimes eyed at his son, complaint even, but hated? Not in front of Quirin. But there had been today - a total disaster. The children had grouped up to attack Varian. Had something like that happened before? And he simply hadn't noticed? His chest tightened at this question. Could he have missed this, all these years? Have they hated his son behind his back, careful to seal their lips in front of their leader? The father gulped down, trying to stop this train of thoughts, trying to not let Varian suspect anything and concentrate finally, on the conversation. He reached up and combed through his hair with his fingers, a movement that calmed him a bit. "Varian, they... they are children. Children are sometimes mean and unreasonable. They just haven't bothered to really get to know you. You are clever, more than any child, here. I'm sure they are jealous. Probably they wanted to show that they are better than you and they figured that they only have a chance with pure force. Don't worry son, I will talk with their parents, this is no behaviour I can accept in Old Corona."

"But... they didn't sound jealous... They said I had blown up things a-and started fires... but- how? Stephan even said that I destroyed his house..." he tried to explain, remembering how the boy had pulled and kicked him, possibly as 'payback'. But did he really deserve it? Was there something here that he didn't know about? It calmed him a little, knowing that Quirin was willing to stand up for him, but what if he was on the wrong? What if they were right to do this? He waited for the explanation, holding his breath.

"They... they said you've blown up things? Set fires?" Quirin's throat tightened. How much have those boys told him? Could he continue to hide it? He must. He really must. For his son's sake. His hands started to sweat, but luckily, the gloves would cover him. Varian should believe him, forget those things and move on. They could live a good live. He just needed to bend the truth a bit. He braced himself and started, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "They really told you something like that? They...? Varian, it is true that their house burned down this summer, but we searched for the source and we came to the conclusion that it was self ignition. The chaff ignited and set everything on fire, the flour which was stored fueled it, exploded. It was a tragedy, indeed. But at least no one was injured." He opened his eyes again, searching for his face. Would it work? He hated to lie to him, he really did, but how could he tell him he caused it by being too reckless? After such a day? And the questions afterwards, would lead them to the source, the alchemy. No, this way it would be the best.

Varian listened carefully. The explanation making sense, except Varian being blamed for it, did not fit in the equation. The gears turning in his head, trying to understand why he was the one accused. "But... then why did they hit me... Why did they say I deserve this if I never hurt them? _Why did they hurt me?_ " he stressed, wanting so badly to understand what was happening. Was it because his streak scared them? He had been called a freak of nature, so, was it because of that? Did they think he was magic? But how could he be? Magic did not exist, that much he knew.

"Varian." Quirin reached out to stroke his hair with slow, steady moves. It looked like he tried to calm his son down, but in reality, he also calmed himself. His words may be lies, but his gaze was real, full of love. "They are children, they don't understand it was caused by the warmth itself. They don't understand the logic behind this phenomenon yet. They searched for someone to blame and they found their target in you. I'm sorry I haven't realized they haven't been your friends. I- I will do better, I will ask around and find your friends, don't worry."

He breathed in tiredly, gently grabbing Quirin's arm to stop his motion. Then, he looked at him, somewhat unconvinced. "Dad... I didn't have any friends, did I?" he spoke, quiet and knackered. His father had already taken him to his supposed friends. He didn't want another repeat of today's events, not if the search was in vain. He caught onto that lie, he had no choice. He didn't think for a second that Quirin did this out of malice, but he shouldn't lie to him either, not when he was the only person who's words he could trust.

Quirin's smile fell apart and his gaze went to the floor, sadness radiating from him. Varian had finally realized it, something that this day had made obvious, something Quirin had tried to improve without letting Varian know. "I..." The lump in his throat made speaking so difficult, he was so sorry for Varian. With guilt in his eyes, he looked at his son, the child carefully listening to him. Oh, how much did he wish to be able to tell him good news! But reality was different and he couldn't deny this, any longer. With heavy words and heavy heart, he carried on. "I haven't seen any. I just... thought you must have had. You sometimes had been outside, so I thought-... _hoped_... there would be some kids you would play with."

The blue eyes now looked away, filling with tears as he shook his head, a short, watery laugh leaving him. It hurt to hear him, not admitting that he had none, continuing with what he hoped was the truth, instead of the reality he lived in. And the truth was, he had no friends, in fact, he was hated by most, that's as much as he could recall from today. It felt like a punch in the face, finding out this part of himself. And worst of all, he couldn't pinpoint why, the reason behind their spite. For all he knew, it was simply because of his blue streak, some sort of supernatural magnet for bad luck and misfortune. But even that, even the anomaly on his hair was impossible to explain too. For every question that was answered, more appeared. It was a vicious cycle of whys and hows and whens. His father's attempts to soften the blow, didn't help, either. Varian needed truths, fact, to know the real him. He stayed quiet for some moments, staring into the distance, thinking. "I don't like this, dad... I really don't." he finally spoke, turning to look at him again, on the verge of crying.

Varian's sad laugh and his answer, pierced in Quirin's heart, making his chest hurt, the words so simple and childish, like he would be calling for help, saving him from the cruel truth. But Quirin had tried this already, without success. Right at this moment, even the father felt helpless, lost. He would wish his child the best and yet, life had denied Varian to have friends, so far. The glossy eyes glistened in the golden light, looking at him for anything to say. Quirin's mind was blank for that second, so much sadness filled his heart. "I don't like it either..." He took Varian in his arms, embraced him with so much sorrow, stroking his back and trying to hold back tears. "I also don't like it..." His voice was a bit wavering, teary, gave him away. He gulped and tried to get his composure back, giving his son hope, again. "We could... we could still look out. You could play with younger kids? Be like a big brother to them? What do you think?"

He hid there, trembling and gasping and sobbing. What he really wanted was to dig himself a hole and hide, but this would do for now. His hands tugged onto Quirin's vest, as if to hold on to something, to stop himself from falling, afraid the ground beneath him would disappear. Then Quirin spoke again, another suggestion, another false light in the distance. He should simply stop. Stop, whatever it was he thought he was trying to accomplish. Because, to Varian, it could only end in more pain, more betrayal, more broken hopes. More truths and lies that were coming to crash him. He shook his head frantically in Quirin's embrace, mumbling quietly 'no', over and over. He didn't want any of this. He just wanted to hide forever now. And if that restricted him only within his own home, then so be it. He didn't need their insults, anyway.

Quirin let him cry, simply embracing him closer, rubbing his back in soothing circles. This day was too much, way too much for the boy, to him the outside world must be cold and grey and so, so hostile right now, clinging onto Quirin to hide from such a world. The father felt even more helpless, the words that meant to be encouraging, had only made everything worse. Quirin finally understood that he should let it slip for today. With a soft voice, he answered the boy's mumbling. "Alright Varian, alright. You... don't have to." He squeezed him for a moment, gently but determined.

He gulped and tried to catch his breath, whimpers leaving him instead. He didn't know what he would have done if he had never escaped that shed. None would have told Quirin, either. It would have just been himself, the darkness and the icy cold air. He tried to focus on the fact that he was now home, in the warmth and the light, not alone. Quirin was right there. _Dad was right there._ He thought of those fact instead, to calm himself down, soon ceasing to cry. His eyes burned, so did his nose and his side ached under the bruise. But most of all, he was exhausted. Finally ready to sleep, but he didn't dare to speak, to tell Quirin to break the hug. He didn't want to come out of hiding.

Quirin let the hug continue for a bit, waiting till the boy calmed down and the tears stopped. He stroked his hair and back, just being here, afraid words could destroy even more, breaking Varian's shattered heart further, with his clumsy attempts. The fire eventually, burned down, the flames small and without new wood, the remaining logs glowing rather than burning. It was already late too, time to walk upstairs. "Varian." Quirin whispered with a quiet voice, a bit rough from the time of keeping silent. "Let us go to bed, catch some sleep."

"Okay..." a hoarse whisper in his throat, croaky from all the tears and tiredness. Reluctantly, he pushed himself away, trying to stand up. Another yawn left him, drawn out and sleepy, clearly a sign of a difficult day. His eyes drooping as he slouched, barely keeping himself standing.

Quirin got up, too. The long sitting had strained his feet a bit, a prickling sensation now running through them. But he kept upright, looking over to his son. Varian looked sleepy, almost too tired to stand, let alone walk. His heart told him to pick the child up and carry his son upstairs and his arms almost accepted the order. But then, he recalled how Varian had reacted the first time after the accident, how much he had struggled to get away, how scared he had been. It may not be this bad again, but the boy had kept flinching every now and then, not used to such gestures. He didn't want to upset him again, not when he was already so drowsy. He would need his sleep dearly. Instead, he walked up to the boy and offered a hand. "Let's walk upstairs."

Varian instinctively took it, as if it was an old habit from when he was young. He followed Quirin blindly, minding his step on the staircase. Luckily for him, his mind was way too tired to think, for assumptions and fears to pester him. Those could wait till the morning, he could put things in order, then. Right now, he could only think of his bed and his blanket and his pillow, already accustomed to the idea of his own room, the space no longer as foreigner.

Quirin guided him with attentive eyes, watching every step, especially on the staircase. Varian walked slowly, but still mindful enough to lift his feet high enough to take the steps without stumbling. Eventually, they reached Varian's room, the room cooler than the one with the fireplace, but the two blankets would do their job to keep him warm. Quirin lifted the blanket to let Varian slip into the bed and covered him with care, pulling them over his shoulders to just let his head stick out. "Goodnight Varian." With a soft stroke over the child's cheek, he said goodbye, letting him finally sleep after this exhausting day. Although the father hasn't done that much work, he also felt drained out now, he was tired, the whirlwind of emotions had hit him too. With heavy steps, he walked over to his own room, happy to slip under the sheets soon.

He didn't quite realise when he got into bed, the covers wrapping around him in a makeshift hug to keep him warm. He hummed quietly and contently, as Quirin said goodnight, too drowsy to realise he was leaving, too slow before Quirin was out the room, his words barely audible in the complete silence. "Goodnight, dad..." he said, his father already gone, and with that, he fell into a deep sleep, away from the terrors lurking in his reality.

Quirin tossed around in his bed. Usually, he was someone who fell asleep easily, within minutes or even seconds on days he worked very hard. But now, it was different. He was tired, very much actually, but his mind didn't allow him to rest. Varian's face appeared again and again, afraid, confused, frightened beyond belief. Big teardrops running down his freckled cheeks. He wanted to run to him, hug him, dry those tears. His feet moved, he could feel it, strong at first, and fast, but they got stuck, white appeared, snow, on the ground, hindering his movement, in the air, everywhere. His sight got tinted with this white, the flakes so countless that his son's face vanished right in front of him. He stretched his arms, as far as he could, lunged forward, ignoring the hip-deep snow. He stumbled and his feet touched wooden planks of a floor. Quirin blinked in surprise and looked up, right in front of the faces of the miller family. They hadn't noticed him immediately, but now they looked up, smiling and greeting him with a happy laughter. He stepped forward and warmth surrounded him. He was not sure why he was here, his mind a bit clouded while he tried to remember. "Quirin." The miller approached him. "Quirin, your son has destroyed our house." The father gulped, didn't moved. "And you told him it was not his fault?" The man's face was judging, disapproving. "I had to." That's all Quirin brought over his lips. "You lied to him!" The miller's voice was loud, accusing, his face reddish. Quirin flinched, startled by this sudden shift in behaviour.  
He wanted to say something, anything, to defend himself, telling him  _why_  he did it, but his throat was like sealed, no noise came out of it. He turned his head to the rest of the family, their smiles have faded, twisted to cold masks, faceless, like he had never known them. In the middle of them, a small figure, someone who wasn't there before, Quirin was sure. He looked at his face, his little boy, beaten up, the red dripping out of his nose. With teary eyes he looked at him, yet they didn't cry for help. _"You lied to me."_ With this disappointing whisper, his sight went dark and the ground opened, swallowed him, sent him falling. With a deep gasp, Quirin shot upright. His heart beat wildly, raced like his breathing, while his eyes darted around, capturing his room in the dim, morning light. _It was a dream. It was just a dream._ He calmed down a bit, pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes. He was just stressed. With a deep breath, he looked up again, realizing that it already was morning. Sleeping after such an awful dream was no good idea, anyway. His thoughts still lingered on the things he had seen in this dream. How foolish he was! Quirin pressed his lips together and swung his feet out of the bed. He had made his decision already. His son shouldn't bother with the mistakes of the past. It was another secret, yes, but Quirin was used to secrets anyway. If the price would be such dreams, well, he would manage. With determined steps, he walked downstairs. He would prepare a good breakfast, the boy really needed something to eat, after yesterday. Quirin's thoughts drifted through the possibilities, thinking about what food would be best. It was a perfect thing to lighten up his son, an opportunity to let the child smile again. But also, something Quirin would never admit, a perfect chance to distract himself.

Varian spent majority of the night in a peaceful sleep, no thoughts running through his head, just much needed rest. For the most part. Because when morning arrived, his subconscious returned to haunt him. All of the people he had seen the day before, all of them back to attack and insult him, calling him a disappointment, a freak, a threat. He run away from them, away from the people, rushing through the snow until he reached a small, wooden house. He hid in there. It was dark, but he saw his father, clear as day. He ran to him, embracing him tightly, begging for Quirin to make them stop. Instead, the father pushed him away and stepped back, his hand rising to point at the child's hair. "No son of mine looks like this." he said, his voice deadpan, lifeless, as if it were a cheap imitation of what he remembered. Varian went to reach out to him, his eyes shooting open immediately. He examined his surrounding a little. His room. He was home. He was safe. He sat upright, looking around him some more. As if searching for anybody hiding nearby. Nobody was there. He sighed in relief and got off his bed, heading again to the kitchen, just like yesterday, no other plans beyond that for today. He stepped into the room, filled with yet another amazing smell, the scent putting his earlier stress at ease. He took in a deep breath and spoke softly. "Morning, dad."

"Good morning, Varian." Quirin smiled at the boy, determined to give him better experiences today. "Take a seat, son." The father turned around, a frying pan full of scrambled eggs and bacon. The bread was already cut and placed in a small basket, the table set. Varian came here just in time, otherwise Quirin would have woken him up.

He obliged, with a slightly crooked smile, a little uncertain at first, but settling down fairly easily. He watched Quirin, anticipating the food as well, smelling delicious, making his stomach grumble a little. He braced himself to silence it. He didn't remember to eat anything after the incident, yesterday, it had certainly been a while, and now that he was calmer, he could actually pay attention to his own needs. But his stomach didn't stay quiet, making another loud sound. He wanted to find something to distract from it, a little abashed by it. "So, uh, did you sleep well?" he said, both curious and thankful for the quick excuse.

The father placed the food on the table and took a seat on his own. He felt a little caught as the question came and he asked himself if he might have looked exhausted or tired. At least he felt well, the nightmare had been inconvenient, but in the end, he had gotten enough sleep. "Yes, I slept well, had plenty of rest. How about you?" Quirin looked up interested, focusing for a moment on Varian, then he started to fill the plates with food, waiting with an open ear for an answer.

He went to serve himself, quickly halting, unsure if the father would be okay with it. He shot a look at him, away from the food, answering his question first. "Oh- I slept okay." he said, then looked at the food again. It was odd, he was starting to feel more at home here, and yet there were still little things that he couldn't be fully certain of.

_Okay?_ Quirin felt sorry for his son, he would have hoped that the exhaustion of this awful day would at least grant him a deep sleep. But the father could imagine that the latest events may have haunted him in his dreams and he decided to better let it slip. Recalling them was no good idea and so, he filled Varian's plate with an extra big portion, aware that the boy hasn't eaten for a long time. "A good day starts with a good breakfast." he said, trying to lighten the mood. With these words, he shoved the plate, back to Varian, looking in anticipation at him. Whenever his son was very hungry, he used to dig in with joy and it was a pleasure to watch his first bite. This was something that has changed over the years, Varian had been busy and eating had became more and more of an obligation, than a welcome break. Quirin had to admit, he had probably set a bad example too, the meals way more rushed than they should be, sometimes he had even read during this time, breakfasts mostly on their own at different times and so often, he had accepted that Varian had left the table after a hurried meal at dinner. But now, it felt different, was different, and Quirin wanted to enjoy every second of it. He had never noticed how much he had missed such a calm breakfast together, the one from yesterday had been nice and today should be too.

He nodded with a smile and a quiet 'thanks'. He took the first mouthful, a little hesitant. But the taste made his eyes widen a little in surprise, his movements quickening as he started to dig in. Now that the food was taken care of, there was still another thing to ask. He swallowed and stopped for a second, thinking before speaking. "So, what are you gonna do today?" he asked, curious to hear what his father's schedule included. According to what Quirin would do, Varian would decide on his day as well, only reading being on his list of things he could possibly do to pass the time.

This was exactly the reaction Quirin had hoped of. He felt almost nostalgic, this moment so precious, after yesterday's dreadful evening. He even had to remind himself to better start eating too, before the food got cold. With appetite, the man also dug in, enjoyed his meal. After he had gulped down some mouthfuls, Varian was interested in what his father has planned for today. Quirin put the fork away and looked at his son. Indeed, he had already a schedule for today. "Well, after the common round in the morning, we meet today to sharpen the sickles and maintain the plough." He looked at his child. This work would take some hours, Varian would be all alone in the castle, a long time in silence. Too much time to think about yesterday. Quirin better thought of some kind of distraction. He wished he could cancel his tasks, to spend some time with Varian, helping him to overwrite the horror from yesterday. But he was also the leader, had responsibilities and they needed their tools clean and sharp, before the winter ends. Varian would understand, he would also be the leader, someday. That was the moment Quirin had an idea. What if he took Varian with him? Showed him his future tasks? The earlier he learned what to do, the more knowledge and routine he would gain, along with confidence. The children may had rejected him, but the adults would treat him well. "Varian, you can come with me today, do you want to help me?"

Varian listened intently, but was taken a little aback when Quirin proposed to take him along for today. He wanted him around? After what happened? He lowered his gaze, eyes darting all over the wooden floor. He wanted to reject, so badly. But then, he saw how his father lit up when he brought up the idea. He didn't want to sadden him more, not after yesterday's fiasco. Besides, Quirin would be with him the whole time, anyone as much dared to hurt him or look at him weird, Quirin would step in immediately! He was sure! Not after he let his guard down like this. A small smile formed on his lips, nodding a little. "Yeah, sounds- sounds good!" he replied. He had to try again. Varian wasn't a quitter. He wanted to give it at least another shot, before he could allow himself to give up.

Varian didn't accepted immediately, gave it some thought first. Quirin almost feared he would reject the idea, the boy's face was so serious, while he considered the offer. But in the end, he agreed, a little unsure, yet it was a yes. Quirin's features softened as he heard it, so glad Varian would not hide after the incident. _A second chance to make things right._ Quirin would give his best to not mess up again! "I'm glad." The faint smile on his lips didn't mirror his great relief properly. He picked up the fork again. "Okay. So, let's finish breakfast and get ready."

He nodded and continued his breakfast, seemingly calm and alright, but inside, he was screaming. 'What were you thinking?! We got to try! Are you crazy?! Did you forget what happened yesterday?! Quirin- Dad will be with us! Quit being a coward! They called me weak, I need to show them they are wrong!' he finished his meal rather quickly, getting up from the table, the argument still going on in his head. 'And what if they make dad laugh at us, too? He wouldn't do that! How do you know? I just do!' he finally reached the washroom, to throw some water on his face, comb his hair and at least try to look like he didn't take a beating, just a night ago. He stopped, in front of the mirror. The door was closed, enhancing the isolation around him. It was not very pretty, his nose still irritated, bruised too. He looked tired, as far as he could tell. Felt like it too. Even after he washed his face, it didn't help improve him drastically. Finally, his eyes rested on his hair, a messy pile of black strands going in all directions. But even in the chaos, the blue stood out, ominous and haunting, like it wasn't supposed to be there. It unnerved him, he had to admit. Neither of his parents had it. And he couldn't recall Quirin giving ever him an explanation. No wonder the other children were scared of him, he was starting to scare himself. He sighed, turning his head away. What luck it was, however, when his eyes fell on a pair of scissors. A simply solution to such a big problem. He took them in his hand, examining them a bit, then with his other hand, he separated the blue from the rest of his hair, lightly pulling on the strand to clearly see its beginning. He then froze however, looking at his own reflection, the scissors in one hand, his own hair in the other. He stopped and thought for a minute. This strand was clearly a part of himself, always had been. It was Varian's. The Varian before the memory loss. Why did he keep it if everyone hated him for it? What was special about it? It was a part of him, sure. But how was it not more trouble than it was worth? What if dad got sad or angry at him for cutting it off? He bit his lip, lost in thoughts, taking a little too long to decide if it should stay or go.

Quirin had no clue about Varian's internal fight, to him, it was all decided and with a calm feeling, he finished his breakfast. Varian was a bit faster and already left the table, heading to the bathroom for sure. The father wanted to give him enough time so, he decided to make the dishes. The boy shouldn't feel pushed in his morning routine. It wasn't much to do, the few things soon clean. He placed the last plate away, into the kitchen board. This should be enough time. Quirin walked over to the bathroom to get ready too, but then, he noticed the closed door. Was Varian still in there? He walked closer and knocked cautiously, against the wood. "Varian, may I come in?"

Varian jolted, the scissors slipping off his hand and falling on the floor, despite his best efforts to catch them mid air. He scrambled and picked them off the floor, putting them back where he remembered seeing them the first time. "Uh- Yeah! Yes, just a moment!" he replied, almost out of breath, flattening his hair a bit, with his hands and then, opening the door.

Quirin could have sworn he had heard a quiet gasp, followed by a noise, something clattered onto the floor. The father knitted his brows in concern. What was happening in there? A rushed reply and the sound of movement reached his ear and finally, the door swung open. "Varian, everything alright?" The father was both, worried and a bit wary, the whole situation reminded him of events in the past. Situations where Varian had hidden things from him, experiments he had forbidden, after the first failure had caused a fire or the ingredients were way too dangerous for a child. The boy had messed with them nevertheless, and when Quirin was about to catch him, the same noises could be heard every time. But Varian was not in the lab, this was just the bathroom and nothing more. What had made him this nervous to drop something?

"Yeah, e-everything is fine! Why?" he leaned on the door frame, playing cool, but his nervousness showed through the cracks, as he asked him the reason. Quirin was clearly onto him, the father worried, but also a bit suspicious. He couldn't tell why, but the exchange felt rather familiar. Had this happened before? It sure felt like it. But as for the specifics, he didn't know those. It'd be odd to ask about this now, too, rather random in his eyes, so instead, he focused on covering up what he had almost done.

Quirin raised an eyebrow. Okay, the boy clearly hid something, this behaviour was too familiar. It would have been almost funny, how fast Varian fell back into his old behaviors, after the accident, if it wasn't something that caused Quirin, already, so much worry in the past. He eyed the boy a moment longer, before he answered. "I've heard a noise. You dropped something?" His gaze went over to the mirror, examining if there was something broken or any kind of mess. Not that he would have scolded him. Letting something drop was nothing Quirin would get angry over. He would simply clean it up. But there was nothing on the floor. Why was Varian so flustered then?

"Uh-..." he uttered, looking for an excuse. He couldn't tell him about the scissors. What if he scolded him for trying to cut his hair? Besides, he still had some thinking to do regarding that ordeal. He'd rather if he thought about it himself and then, talked to Quirin, once he made up his mind. His old self must have had a reason for keeping the streak, right? He wanted to find it for himself, or at least try. "I just dropped the brush, you startled me." he let out a nervous chuckle, hoping it'd be enough for now.

"Oh. I see. I'm sorry." This explanation could be the truth. His gut feeling told him something slightly different, but for now, there was no chance for further questions. Maybe he was wrong for once and the boy really had just dropped the brush. The father wanted to believe him and so he walked inside, picking up the brush next to the mirror. His hair was not very messy, but he wanted to brush them a little, nevertheless. Before Quirin started, he remembered that he might have disturbed the child and Varian probably hasn't finished yet. It wasn't his intention to shoo the boy out of the bathroom. With an apologetic look, he turned to Varian, holding the brush in front of him. "You still need it?"

Varian was confused for a second, looking at the brush as if he'd never seen it before. "No- I'm done." he said and proceeded to leave, hurrying to his room to pick something to wear. He went for the teal shirt and brown trousers, gravitating towards them with ease. "Now, my apron-" he said to himself, then stopping dead in his tracks. Apron? What apron? He was going outside, what would he need that for? He tried, he really did, to remember if this meant anything. What could he use an apron for? Baking? Did he like cooking maybe? Was he even any good at it? He'd have to ask Quirin for now, he could always try it out later. "Hey, dad? Did I cook or bake at all before I lost my memory?" he shouted the question from his room, making his bed in the meantime, an unusual sight normally.

Quirin just headed out of the bathroom, as the question echoed through the hallways. How did he even- ? The father had no clue how his son got the idea of baking, while changing in his room. The man walked upstairs, while he tried to figure it out. Was there maybe a cooking book somewhere in his room? The father couldn't tell. The topic was so random and appeared this sudden, he couldn't connect the dots. As he arrived, he peeked into the room, where Varian was about to make his bed. Well, _this_ difference was a welcoming one! "So, cooking or baking?" The father stood in the door frame with a questioning look, one eyebrow slightly rose upwards. "That's an odd question. You remembered something?" He wanted to know which pieces had come back, probably there was something about alchemy again. A Bunsen burner had a flame too. But this question, all alone, would sound weird too, like he would probably hide something, that's why he continued. "Well, you really used to bake, you helped your mother a lot in the kitchen." It was actually the truth, his wife had loved to teach his son those things. She always had said boys should learn to cook too, that it was important. In the end, Quirin couldn't agree with her more, he had been so lost the first moths all alone in the kitchen, after he had lost his love, making so many mistakes, that he had wished his mother would have had the same priorities in his education. Well, he had learned the hard way. And maybe some innocent comments from his little son had helped too, saved them some of their meals. Now, the father had collected enough experience to prepare them good meals, without burning anything. Had Varian remembered one of those times? He had stopped to cook, once his mother was gone, Quirin was no good teacher at all in this topic, but what if his memory had brought up something very old?

The boy thought for a minute, he could recall very faintly that he used to spend time with his mother like this. It was a little bittersweet to think about. But from his words, it seemed like it wasn't part of his present life anymore, as if he had stopped, many years ago. But what if he misunderstood and the past tense referred to recent past, because he couldn't shake off the feeling that he wore an apron, a lot. He just couldn't. It was the same with the gloves, it felt right to have them on. But who cooks with gloves on? Maybe it was oven mittens? And what about the beakers he had drawn. That must have been it. He must have been baking too as a hobby! After all, he was stuck at home most of the time, he would need to keep himself entertained, any way he could. Yes, it made sense! "I see! And- Did I have my own apron too?" he asked, his eyes shining a bit at the realisation, the discovery of another piece of himself.

Slowly, it dawned on Quirin. An apron. He must have remembered, while he dressed himself, the worn out, dark leather apron, something he wore almost every day. Without the background, he must have thought about where aprons would appear and the kitchen had been the thing that came to his mind. Now it made sense. Varian currently, had no apron, no _fabric_ apron to be more precise. But Quirin, already knew that once a part of his memory returned, Varian would be sure about it and demand answers. The father thought hard. He couldn't take back the idea he had worn an apron, so he better play along. And his wife had indeed possessed an apron. If he remembered right, it should still be on a hook, beside the kitchen door. In this house, there were everywhere bits and pieces of her, he had never dared to put away. It was like she was still around, the items a reminder to keep her alive. Yes, the apron should be still there. And now Varian should be tall enough, it would fit for sure. "Indeed you have an apron, you inherited your mother's one. It's down in the kitchen." Quirin could almost call it luck Varian had made his own conclusions with this piece of memory. Baking or cooking was a good and practical hobby, something that would help him for the future. Today, seemed to be a good day, things turned out the right way.

Varian smiled at his words, happy to have found another part of himself, on his own! There was still hope that he could get all of his memories back. Quirin was right, maybe he just needed time after all. His mood improved quite a bit, the earlier worrying having left him for now. Maybe he could even try baking something, once they were back. Who knows, maybe he remembered a trick or two or a recipe he really liked or even something his father liked. Regardless, he had just found another thing to keep himself busy with. For some reason, the idea of measuring ingredients, mixing them and creating something with them, seemed really familiar and, of course, very intriguing. He finished his bed and turned to Quirin. "So, shall we go then?" he asked, beaming a little, the bruise on his nose unable to cloud his smile.

"Yes, let's go." Quirin could see that Varian had accepted his answer, another part of his memory was altered now. There was a tiny voice, whispering within him, that he was just tricking his son, suppressing things, parts of him, but the father ignored it. Varian was Varian. He was still his son, he had just different, better and safer interests now. With these thoughts, he walked downstairs, putting on his own cloak and handing Varian his scarf. The bobble hat was gone, so he wrapped a cape with a hood over the child's cloak. The fur lining would keep his ears warm, too. "Okay, here we go." Quirin pulled the hood over the boy's head before he opened the front door.

The air outside was icy, but also fresh. With a deep breath, the man stepped outside, the day blessed with bright sunshine. Today, Varian would make good experiences! Quirin would not let him down again! The father walked forward with determined steps, but then turned around to look back to Varian. "First, we will walk a bit, around and talk to the village. As a leader, I listen to them and take action based on if there is something to do or improve. But don't worry, most of the time they just want to do some small talk. You will see, no big deal." He gave the boy an encouraging smile. Varian will see that the village did not only contains a bunch of mean kids!

He listened carefully, following his father, the boy seeming tiny compared to him. The plan seemed alright, just a bit of walking and talking with the villagers, not their kids. Varian could only hope he didn't come across any of yesterday's faces now. For now, they just went on. The morning daylight reflected beautifully on the snow, making it sparkle. He couldn't exactly appreciate it yesterday or the day of the accident, but now, he found a sort of charm to it, even though he wasn't keen on how cold it was, and how it made everything damp and even colder, and the wind and the grey clouds, he didn't much like any of it. But, he had to admit, under the right light, it was quite pretty. They had approached the first houses now, some people outside in the square. Varian walked closer to his father now, a little behind him. He didn't really realise how he shifted his position.

But Quirin saw how Varian tried to hide. He lifted his arm and put it at his son's back, his hand gently grabbing the upper arm of his opposite side, hopefully giving him confidence with his touch. He was here with his son and not a shadow that followed him unseen! The first villager was already close, an old lady with grey hair. She walked a little hunched over, carrying an empty basket. Quirin raised his head a bit as he saw her, already knowing what she had in mind. His pace sped a little up ,but still watched out if Varian was able to follow his steps. He shouldn't feel pushed around. Some moments later, they reached the woman. "Good morning, Mrs. Schmidt! Has the fire wood already, gone out?" The woman sighed. "Yes, it was so cold the last days, so cold. And the logs here, are not coming inside on their own." She turned her head to the house wall, a second wall of logs piled up on the house, all of them big and surely heavy. She shook her head softly and focused back on Quirin. "But good morning, Quirin!" She lit up and smiled at the man. Her gaze wandered along the huge frame and she spotted the child on his side, blinking in surprise with her old eyes. "Oh, could it be? Your son is with you?"

He had to admit, the gesture did help, a protective shield against all harm. He clung onto him a bit, but trying not to look too childish, he was thirteen to fourteen after all, he was not longer a baby. Then, someone approached, his father already speaking with the fellow villager, all while he waited silently, feeling invisible. That is, until she directed herself to him, noticing him moments after she finished speaking to the leader. Or rather, her question was again for Quirin to answer, the way she phrased it, but Varian retreated just a bit. Being acknowledge by them was honestly a feeling he could rather go without, right now. All he had was shame and very few memories, nothing good he could highlight or talk about. He instead stayed quiet again, his grip on Quirin's coat tightening a little, his lips pressing together firmly.

"Yes, yes indeed." Quirin lifted his hand higher, letting go of his shoulder as he placed it on top of the hood. "Varian, say hello to Mrs. Schmidt." The father repeated the name on purpose, giving Varian a chance to take a mental note. The boy made attempts to stay invisible, but Quirin wanted to show him that not every interaction with others was condemned to end into a disaster.

He gulped and mouthed quietly, a timid whisper, nothing like the perfectly normal voice he practiced in his mind, in the few seconds he had to reply. "Hello, Mrs. Schmidt." he spoke, holding onto Quirin more, trying to hide, instinctively. He really thought he could handle it. But this was proving more difficult than he had pictured. But he had to try, his dad was right there. He had to make him proud, he must! He couldn't be an embarrassment again, not after yesterday. He had to prove his worth, of that, he was sure by now. "I-I'm Varian, nice to meet you!" he rushed to say, extending his hand, only to remember she already knew him. 'Well, this is a great start...' he cursed himself, but he could still turn this around, he was sure, he only hoped he didn't become the laughing stock of the village... more than yesterday at least.

The old lady took his hand nevertheless, smiling a bit. "I saw you sometimes running over to some merchants, when they stopped at the square. Well, you grew a bit since I last saw you, this close." She let her gaze wander over the boy, examining him, shaking her head again. "My dear, Quirin, you should feed him more, get more meat on his bones, such a scrawny boy."

"Uh-...Thanks?" Varian retreated his hand, cringing a little at the comment. Here we go again, with the comments on how weak he was. Is this all people saw in him!? He had some serious cleaning up to do with his name, that was for sure. But right now, another thing was more important, she had mentioned something about merchants. What kind of, what was he buying from them? "Oh- Wait, you mentioned some merchants! What kind of?" he asked quickly, before anyone could change the subject.

"Well..." She tapped her lip with her index finger and knit her brow, while she tried hard to remember, not noticing Quirin's slightly alarmed gaze. His eyes widened at the thought that maybe, something would slip through, while he was there, but practically couldn't stop it, without sounding somehow suspicious. The old lady knew that Varian had lost his memory, all thanks to Quirin's early round, yesterday and for her, it must seem logical the boy would ask some questions. If the father would now, deny the answers, it would just stand out. No, he had to keep quiet and could only hope she wouldn't tell the child something that didn't fit into Quirin's story. "I can't remember this much, dear boy, but it had been some kind of weird liquids?" Her voice was a bit uncertain, like it was more a question than an answer. But then, her memory seemed to become clearer, some details coming to her mind. "Your basket had been full of them, so many glass bottles. And you ran and my only thought was 'be careful dear, better not fall.'" Yes, now she could remember. On that day, she had been a bit afraid the boy could probably, spill some of the substances.

'Weird liquids?' he processed the answer, a little. That wasn't particularly helpful. It's not like she said something specific really. Those could have been anything. Was it cooking ingredients? Perfume? Paint? He couldn't tell. "What kind of liquids were they, what did I get them for?" he asked, a puzzled expression on his face, as he now turned to Quirin, hoping his father would know. It only made sense Quirin would hold this answer, he was his father, he must have known what his own son was up to, getting involved in his life at least a little from time to time... Right?

Varian looked up to him with innocent eyes, not knowing how he pushed Quirin into a predicament. The father's gaze, quickly shifted between his son and the old lady and back to his son. Mrs. Schmidt hasn't seen much from the distance, he guessed, so he could stretch the truth a bit. And even if she saw through him, she could probably understand what he was doing. He had to take the risk. "I can remember, one day you came home with a lot of glass bottles... You had bought some new paint, from a merchant. A bit much, you used all the money I gave you for the whole month." The father managed a small smile. "But we shouldn't bother Mrs. Schmidt any longer, it's cold and she probably, wants to go inside again. Let's help her, a bit, before leaving." He took a step forward. "Don't worry about the firewood, we will bring it inside." The woman gave Quirin a grateful smile and stepped aside, as the man started to put some logs in a basket on the ground.

Yes, that explanation made sense. He could work with that one. So painting, too, huh? Boy, did he have a lot of hobbies. Things must have been getting rather boring around the house, with none to talk to, he guess. Then, Quirin moved again, going to the logs. Varian followed right behind him, ready to take up the task, as well. He grabbed a big log, but quickly found that it was heavier than he initially judged, making him hold his breath and puff his cheeks, carrying it to the basket.

"Careful, Varian." Quirin watched his son with raised eyebrows, the boy took one of the biggest logs, clearly too heavy for the child. He struggled to bring it to the basket, but succeeded in the end. Still, Quirin was not happy with the situation. "Look, over there, there are smaller ones." The father pointed to a place which was about two steps away, where much smaller pieces were piled up. "Mrs. Schmidt will need such logs too, to get the fire started." He quickly tried to reason his action. Varian could really help him, but the biggest logs were not good at all for his small frame. Quirin didn't want Varian to get hurt, carrying very heavy things, was not healthy for his back. He could carry them, once he was older and stronger. Right now, the father didn't expect him to push himself that far.

Varian looked over at the smaller logs, a little disappointed that his father directed him there instead. But he wanted to be helpful today, so he complied, despite his hurt pride. He didn't want to cause an inconvenience by starting an argument, especially in public, but he did wish his father didn't see him as weak. 'Maybe I should add exercise to the timetable too...' he told himself, silently carrying on with his own task, quickly finishing, a little out of breath by the end, even with the smaller logs.

"Alright." Quirin elevated the basket with a determined motion, the weight of the basket, almost not visible in his move. "Thank you, son. I'll be back in a minute." He followed Mrs. Schmidt into the house, to carry the firewood inside.

"U-uh... okay..." he replied, a little confused by his father's command. 'I'll be back'? Did that mean that Varian should stay put and wait? Must be so. Regardless, Varian stayed there, in the frost, crossing his arms to keep the cold out, but also out of nervousness to be alone out there, again. He could only hope none familiar happened to pass by, while Quirin was away from the scene.

Quirin returned some moments later, he just had placed the basket next to the fireplace. Mrs. Schmidt peeked one last time outside. "Thank you, so much. What would I do without your help?" Her gaze searched for Varian. "You too, young man!" She nodded and waved, before she closed the door. Quirin walked over to Varian and patted his back, softly. "Well done. Let's go on." In the end, it had turned out pretty good, the father was glad. Maybe this had already, shown Varian a bit, that he didn't have to hide?

Varian couldn't help but smile at the comment, the old lady clearly grateful, not at all fearful or mocking. His shoulders had risen a bit, truly happy, a new feeling he couldn't quite remember feeling before. Feeling appreciated. It was so different to being yelled at and accused and pushed around. It was the exact opposite of that! And he loved it. Then, his father returned, proposing that they walked on. He nodded and followed Quirin, walking next to him, more confident than before.

They walked a bit further, the square already, a bit more lively. The villagers were busy with their morning tasks. Quirin looked around, he didn't want to disturb them. A mother, with a small boy on her arms, crossed their way, a loaf of fresh bread in her basket. They were heading back home, but nevertheless they stopped in their tracks. "Good morning, Quirin! Always on the run!" The father smiled back. "Same goes for you, Johanna! And I see you took Emil with you." Quirin came closer, his arm again, gently on Varian's back.

He watched them once more, silent, waiting for Quirin to finish his talk with the villagers. In the meantime, he tried to blend in, as if he were part of the background. He didn't recognise this woman or her son, either. Or anyone else, for that matter. He couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing, the other kids were, at least, nowhere to be seen. So from that perspective, he preferred being surrounded by strange faces.

The little boy, first watched the big man approaching, the huge frame with a face so high above, that the child had to tilt his head back. He watched the man, with a stunned expression while he held his mother's hand. In the other, he had a lollipop, forgotten for a moment, as the giant appeared. But then, he remembered seeing this man with the difficult name already, he often had greeted them and last time, he had also gotten a treat from him, as he asked to be nice to another child. Once he had recalled all this, the boy's interest shifted back to the lollipop. The adults started to talk about the weather, which was rather boring. But then, his gaze caught something new - there was a boy next to the man! He was not as tall as his father, but still taller than Emil, so he must be a bit older for sure. Dark green eyes investigated the unknown kid, he had never seen him before! Emil had thought he would already know everyone, but he wasn't able to recall this boy. And there was something that really drew his interest! He let go of his mother's hand and walked two tiny steps closer, his face so curious, as he reached out and pointed with his index finger, at Varian's bangs. "What's this?"

Varian was caught completely off guard, his head snapping downwards, looking at the small child, pointing a near accusing finger at him. He looked at him, a little frozen, offended almost. What was he pointing at? Did he want to laugh at him? Ridicule him? And what exactly was 'this'? What- His face? Was that what he was referring to? But then, he thought a little higher, on his head, or rather, his hair. _The streak._ He must have been pointing at that. Figures. It seemed to be a tradition for people to do so by now, particularly, the younger demographic. It irritated him. But he calmed down, as quickly as he got angry, not showing a single thing of his internal dialogue. It was only a kid. Too young to possibly know everything. And in a sense, the two were very similar at the moment, both curious and needing answers for everything. The streak however, he wished he knew what it was, for himself. He took in a breath and spoke calmly, near monotone, anxious not to say something wrong. "That's my hair..."

The boy still looked almost mesmerized at the streak, clearly fascinated by the sight. To Varian's answer, he nodded thoughtfully, it all made sense in his young mind, but the most important thing was still unsaid. "Why is it blue?" The question let Johanna snap out of the conversation, finally noticing her nosy boy, pressing a quiet 'Oh, I'm sorry!' directed at Quirin through her lips, before she crouched down, behind her son. She stroked, gently over his hair, to get his attention, the boy turned his head at the touch. "Hey Emil." her voice was soft and low, she didn't want to scold him, but rather teach him. "It's not nice to ask people questions why they look the way they do. We better apologize to Varian, don't we?" The mother looked up, still in the crouching position, as she now addressed Varian. "Please excuse my son, he was just curious." Her eyes looked honestly up to him, even a bit abashed that she hadn't recognised earlier, to stop it. In the meantime, Quirin watched the scene, with attentive eyes, ready to step in, if necessary. But it looked like it hasn't done any harm, right? Still, the father closed the distance to his son, standing next to him, just in case.

He couldn't be more grateful that she stepped in, finally stopping the kid from asking more question that he couldn't answer himself. It aggravated him, not having an answer. And from the looks of it, Quirin didn't know either. Not that he had asked him yet, but if he knew, he would have spoken for him, wouldn't he? Or was it something to be ashamed of? Something not suited for public conversations. Something that was better left in the shadows for as many people as possible. Something worth fearing. The prospect of the latter being true, made him a little sick. It made him wonder 'What am I?'. Did he also have those questions before, as well? Suddenly, her voice made him snap out of his trance, looking at her, a little surprised and hurried to answer. "I-it's okay... it's.. fine..." he spoke, taking a step closer to Quirin, hiding there, almost. It was the only thing he could think of, to make himself feel safer. The longer he remained out, the more he felt everyone was staring at his hair.

Varian's answer reassured the mother, she nodded gladly and rose to her feet. "Well then, we didn't want to hold you up any longer. And we should go home, right Emil?" With a tilted head, she turned to her boy and took him by the hand. The small one nodded in approval, before he followed his mother, some steps long looking back to Varian and waving slightly with his hand to say goodbye while walking. Quirin watched them leaving. He had recognised how Varian had moved closer, like Quirin's huge frame would attract enough attention that Varian could hide in his shadow. But this wasn't the father's goal. His son should gain confidence and not learn how to hide even while being in public. He placed a hand on the child's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "It looks like Emil is a rather curious kid, just like you had been." A faint smile appeared on his lips, before he walked on and guided Varian with him. They passed some houses, without running into someone, a break to breathe for both of them. Quirin's gaze not only searched for villagers who wanted to talk to him, his eyes also darted back to his son every now and then.  
Was it okay to keep going? Was Varian too overwhelmed or intimidated? The kid had shortened their distance, since they had left the castle, every time they had met someone, he had searched for the father's proximity. Even while moving, he stuck around so close to him, clearly didn't dare to leave his side. Maybe Varian would just need some more interaction, before the ice broke. Quirin looked around, searching at the square for someone he could introduce to Varian. What he didn't see, were the five boys, which were standing in a alley between two houses. They passed them, as the father had his head turned towards the square, not noticing them. But they did notice the boy beside the man, interrupting their talk and turning their heads towards Varian. Nickolas was the first to react, sticking out his tongue, as he was sure Quirin wouldn't look. Stephan had a malicious grin on his lips, as he waved mockingly and gestured with two fingers, like he would keep an close eye on him. It bugged them Varian had somehow left the shed, even without destroying anything. Oh, how much would they have laughed the next day, if he had still been in there! But Varian hadn't granted them this favour and so, they already thought about new things to do to intimidate him. How could he dare to leave early, anyway?!

The boy didn't really answer to Quirin's comment, just hummed and nodded a little, avoiding eye contact, trying to distract himself by looking around. For better or worse, they kept walking on their own, no one coming to them for more chatter. It was a relief to say the least. A moment to think about what had happened thus far. Two out of three people he met today, were definitely nice. Well, the kid was too young for manners, but, it didn't cease to irritate him, even with that excuse. He was lost in thought, blissfully blanking on the outside world, until, the inevitable happened. He came across those dreadful, familiar faces. He watched, near frozen, both shock and rage fighting to settle in his face, but instead, he just looked blankly at them. He wanted to go there, he wanted to go there and show them, show them that they are wrong, that they are the ones who should be sorry, not him. That the Varian they saw yesterday, was not the Varian he was today. It did make him wonder, if he'd ever stood up for himself. From their words, he had not, not successfully at least. But the last thing he wanted, was to trust what they said. Besides, dad was there. Last thing he wanted, was to burden him with more trouble. He looked away instead, his hand reaching for his streak, almost pulling his bangs down to hide behind them, once he was out of sight. It was unfair, so unfair. They seemed to have gotten away with it. With everything they had done to him. He could only trust Quirin would do something to erase their sickening grins and gestures. He was angry while looking at them. But now that his back was turned, he bit his lip, blinking away some tears, before anyone saw him.

Suppressed laughter could be heard out of the alley, the kids had gained another little victory, their target had given in, chickened out as he tried to even hide this awful streak. He also didn't dare to look at them any longer, what a wimp! But that was not enough. Varian had been too cheeky last time and Stephan yearned for a payback. He grabbed some snow from the ground and formed a big snowball. The others followed his lead, hurrying to get them, before Varian would be out of reach. Luckily the father hasn't noticed them yet and, as cowardly as Varian was, he couldn't walk faster away, he tried so desperately to stay close to his father, who only strolled along. They were barely able to suppress the giggling any longer, as five snowballs at once flew in Varian's direction, hitting his back on several spots. Stephan's snowball hit the hood with a loud thud, he had aimed with all his spite, hadn't forgotten the snowball that had hit his face, right in the middle. What a relief it was, as this freak was now the living target! They all would have loved to see the jerk's reaction, but they had to hasten off, running away as fast as their feet carried them into the alley and away from the square, breaking out into laughter, as they had gained enough ground. Luckily for them, Quirin hasn't even seen their faces.

Varian put up such a fight to ignore their laughs, the same ones he was surrounded by, just the other day. And they were hiding, trying to stay quiet enough for Quirin not to notice. Such cowards! But jokes on them, he didn't stay silent, Quirin knew everything. He may not remember how he would have acted in the past, but this time, he wasn't going to sit there and take this! He was taking action, he was-  
"Eeek!" he yelled as he felt something hitting his back, his earlier stress making him even jumpier. He halted and looked behind him. None was there. Not anymore. He grit his teeth, wanting to run after them, to face them, to ask them why they were acting this way. But he couldn't, not when he was frozen in place, stuck looking behind him. His hands tightened into fists, white knuckled and shaking. His lip trembling too, biting it down to keep steady.

Even Quirin flinched, as Varian suddenly shrieked, the sound piercing his heart and alarming him in an instant, letting him whirl around in a reflex. He hadn't noticed what had happened, only that _something_ must have happened. The child had turned away, staring into the distance, the frame stiffed up and visibly irritated. Quirin tried to understand what had caused this, as he spotted some snow that stuck on Varian's hood, as well as some that was scattered on the cape. On top of that, faint laughter reached his ear, something he would have associated with happy kids, but now, it meant something different. The corners of his mouth dropped and his expression saddened, brows furrowed deeply. They had even attacked him, while he was on his side? The father felt guilty for not noticing this assault fast enough. He crouched down and gently, patted the snow away, placing his hands on both shoulders after he had finished, pulling at one shoulder and pushing on the other carefully, to let Varian snap out of his stare and to turn to him. "Hey." His eyes searched for the bright blue, hoping the attack hasn't done too much damage. A hope that was so unreal, that his mind already denied it, without seeing in the face of his child, but still, his heart clung desperately onto the dream.

He jolted a bit as Quirin patted away the snow from his back, his head snapping behind him momentarily to confirm who it was. He then sighed and looked ahead of him, the horrible kids, long gone. He sniffled, carefully wiping his eyes, mindful of his nose. He brought his hood further down his face, trying desperately to tuck the streak under the fur and the fabric. He could only guess he had gotten every single blue hair out of sight. But then, Quirin made him turn, the boy looking at him, not sad or angry even, just tired, disappointed, defeated. It was another battle lost, one which yet again, he never agreed to join. A one sided fight with unfair referees. He didn't rest his eyes too long on Quirin's, soon turning his gaze down, uncertain of what he was meant to do in these situations.

Varian's gaze let his heart ache. Quirin had tried so hard to give him a good day and yet, a moment of inattention had stained everything. That's not how it should go. "Don't mind these rowdies. With being mean, you don't achieve anything, they still have to learn this." The father had no clue what he could tell him, to help him, to reassure him. This topic was completely new to him. Quirin had never been bullied, he had always been taller than other kids, maybe a bit sturdier, but no one had mentioned that to belittle him. And since he was the leader here, no other kid in Old Corona seemed to have a similar issue. Should he talk to the parents? Most probably. Maybe this was the only way to change this.

He just nodded, gulping down his words, hiding the pain, how much he wanted to chase after them himself. He pushed it all down, sealed it in his heart like a vial- a bottle. "Let's just go on..." he suggested, trying to move ahead of Quirin, dragging his feet through the snow. His streak still hidden under his hood, only a few hair rebelling and peeking out. His eyes were watering, still. But he held it back. All of it. He was still outside. No one should see him cry. No one.

Varian scoffed forward, moving like a whipped dog. It hurt so much to see him like this. Quirin stood up slowly, his heart heavy as his movements. What could he do now? Simply go on? For now, he would try it. With three wide steps, he was already, again on Varian's side. "Let's go to the barn, now." he suggested, the voice in a motivating tune. "We will do some important maintaining, do you want to help?" Varian had always been a kid who wanted to achieve things, solve things or create things. Perhaps doing something could brighten him up, once more.

He sniffled and nodded. "Okay. Let's go." he replied with a low voice, looking up at him eventually, still unable to smile. He hoped he wouldn't see them again today, part of him wanting to hurry home, but Quirin had asked for his help. He couldn't let him down. He tried to look straight forward, ignoring anything that could distract him. He simply set a goal now. Help dad.

Though Varian agreed in the end, he didn't look any happier or motivated, the tears still glistening in his eyes as he blinked for a moment up to Quirin. The father walked forward, pondering a bit over his decision. Would it really be the best to go on? It simply, must be. The other option, bringing his son home, looked at first glance, probably more comforting, but in the end, the child would be alone in the silence, with no one to distract him from thinking about what had happened the last days. No, he couldn't let this happen. Giving him a task, a meaning and more positive experiences was the only way that seemed right to Quirin. They had taken some turns between the houses, as a big barn came into their sight. There were already footprints in the snow, leading to the doors, telling Quirin he was not the first to arrive. He opened one of the doors, the old wood creaked quietly at the motion. "Here we are." With his hand, he gestured Varian to step inside, a wide room interspersed with pillars and timbers to steady the building. Some men were already here, sitting in a wide half-circle, as they worked and chatted with each other. They looked up as the noise of the door reached their ears, stopping with their chatter, for a moment. Several eyes laid on the father and his son, watching how they entered the barn, greeting the two, always well-mannered. "Good morning." Quirin greeted them back with a friendly face, as he closed the door to shut out the cold air from the outside. It was not exactly warm and cozy here, but not cold either. The father continued, after he had slipped out of his coat. "Today, I have brought my son with me, he is now old enough to help here a bit." Quirin placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, as he looked in the round, some of the men nodded or looked curiously as the boy, others already picked up their work again. The father was satisfied with this answers and turned to Varian. "Okay, first take off your cape, the cloak should be warm enough in here." He held out his hand to take over the clothing, ready to store it away so it won't hinder them while working.

Varian was about to oblige, when in a split second, he realised. _The streak._ If he took off the hood, the damned streak would be out in the open, again. What if they shot more angry looks at him, what if its existence unnerved them and he was met with more insults. The children had proven that not even Quirin's presence could protect him from their hatred, his last safety net being futile against their vendetta with him. 'Those are adults, not kids.' he told himself trying to find the courage to take off the hood, still, dragging it down further over his head, avoiding to look at Quirin.

Quirin waited first, his arm still outstretched, but Varian didn't move anymore, just stood frozen in place. His hands tugging on the hood, pulling the fur lining deeper in his face, as if he could hide himself this way. Quirin was not sure why exactly Varian had become this shy, there was nobody here that he met before since the accident happened, so there shouldn't be any bad memories, the kids the only ones who had treated him badly, so far. The father knelt down to look the boy in the eyes. "It's alright, Varian. You don't have to be afraid." He didn't add any further things, some of the farmers already looked over to them, wondering a bit why the boy was so stubborn. But Quirin's son had always been a bit weird. The fact that he didn't destroy anything, but rather wanted to help, seemed to be a welcome shift in behaviour. But did he really want to do something? At the moment, he looked more like an unwilling donkey, not moving an inch. Probably Quirin had finally chanced his parenting and this was some kind of measure to guide him on the right way? The others couldn't tell yet, but one thing was sure. For now, he was just standing there without purpose. One of the men eventually raised his voice at the scene. "Hey boy, do you want to help or stand around? We don't bite, child!"

He was about to speak, when the other man's voice caught his attention, making him snap his head towards the sound. They were... inviting him? It kind of seemed like they were. And he wanted to join them, he really did, to be part of something useful, to contribute, to show he was not just trouble! But the streak wouldn't leave his head. He could only hope no one was going to stare at it. The barn was a bit dark anyway, only light coming from the windows in the big, wooden building. Maybe they wouldn't notice, maybe they wouldn't even care. He could only hope. Reluctantly, he took off the hood and the cape, feeling a little less safe without it, but he could do this, his mind was made up. He handed it over to Quirin, gulping down his anxiety, and exhaling a deep breath to calm down.

Quirin took the cape gladly. He was grateful the farmer had eased the situation in an instant, bringing Varian back to reality. The man even stood up and walked over to Quirin. "Glad you are here now. Maybe you could take a look at the plough? It is in a rough shape, unfortunately." His eyes darted shortly over to Varian. "About the boy... do you have something specific he could do, in mind?" Quirin nodded at his words. "Yes, indeed. I thought he could clean and grease the bridles and all the leather straps for the plough and the cart." The father waved Varian to come closer, ready to show the child what to do. "I see." The farmer now also looked at Varian, scanning him from head to toe, he had seen the boy only from a distance during the last years. He looked small and weak and the man understood why Quirin had chosen this kind of work for him. But well, he could start small and maybe a growth spurt could changed thing a bit. What made the man more worried, was the child's anxiety, as far as he could tell, the boy didn't have this before? At least he hadn't noticed it. If he would keep moving and doing things so sheepishly, Quirin would never have time to look at the plough. The farmer scratched his short beard for a moment, until he had made the decision. "Quirin, let me show the boy his work. This way you can take a look at the plough right now, some of the others are also worried it could take a while to maintain it." He then turned to Varian and held out his hand. "Hey boy, I'm not sure if you remember me, we haven't seen each other in a while, my name is Hannes."

Varian got defensive when he saw him approach, but after he spoke, his tension eased just a little. He glanced at the hand the man had given him and reluctantly, took it, his handshake flimsy and quick, remembering the was Nickolas shook his hand, just yesterday. He certainly didn't want to copy that behaviour, to give the wrong idea, so he tread with caution, showing that he wasn't looking for a fight. "Nice, to meet you, sir." he replied, his tone near professional, a stark contrast to the casual boy that walked around the village, running errands once in a while. He looked the same, expect for the bruise on his nose, but he acted just different enough to mistake him for another person. Not that the old Varian was super confident and outgoing, he preferred his own company, but it's not like the villagers intimidated him at all, the people he had grown up around since he could begin remembering. Now, however, everyone was a stranger. And in a way, he was also a stranger to them, little to no knowledge on who the real Varian was, let alone what he was like now.

Quirin kept a close eye how Varian reacted, his behaviour would help the father to make a decision. At the beginning, Varian was intimidated, his whole posture crying he wanted to flee. Quirin was about to interfere and refuse the offer, as the child finally, reached forward to give a handshake, his voice firmer than the father would have expected. This reassured Quirin, extremely. So far, Hannes had a positive influence, he had challenged the boy a bit, just enough to bring him out of the passive and frozen state. Maybe it was worth a try. "Okay." The father walked over to Varian, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder, before he continued. "Varian, Hannes will show you what to do. I'll be over there, maintaining the plough." He pointed in one of the corners of the barn, the plough not visible from their point of view, since some thin wooden walls segregated the part in the back, creating some storage places in the building. "Just listen to him, will you?" Quirin made one last eye contact with Varian, he wanted to be sure the boy would not panic the first minute he walked away. The child had never been this clingy, but after all those events, he could understand his fear. Now it was time to let him gain his poise back.

He nodded at him, still a little stiff, but he knew he could manage. He had to. He wanted to. He wanted to show them all that he can be useful and that they didn't need to fear him. Now was his chance. "I won't let you down." he said, almost without thinking, the phrase coming out on its own. Was it something he used to say a lot and it became a habit? Regardless, he shot a look over at Hannes, as in to say 'lead the way'.

Varian looked rather serious at Quirin as he said the sentence, determined to succeed here, to manage the task his father had given him. Now, Quirin felt sure enough to leave him. He answered with a nod and ruffled Varian's hair, before walking over to the plough. Hannes now, gestured Varian to follow him. He guided the boy to a chair close to the other men, next to a wall with some hooks in it. "Good. You can take a seat here. I'll be back in a moment." The farmer walked over to one of the storage places and returned with an arm full of leather straps, dropping them on the ground before Varian. "It's quiet some work." he spoke with a slightly tired sigh. He shoved his own chair closer, as well as his bucket of water and some rags. The man dipped one of the fabric pieces, into the water. "Just a bit, you don't want to have icy fingers in the end, so just make one edge a bit damp." He reached for a leather piece and started to wipe over the surface, taking away all the dust and dirt. "If it gets too wet, you should let it dry a bit, but this way you can grease it now." With another dry cloth, he dipped into a tin and rubbed the substance over the leather, making it even a bit shiny. "It makes the leather smooth, again and it won't break this easily anymore. But be economic with it, okay? Too much isn't good for the leather either. See, this one is the right amount." He shifted it a bit around, showing it to the boy. "Once it's done, you can hang it here." With a swift motion he stood up and lunged to the hook, putting the leather strap on its new place. "Now it's your turn." Hannes handed him over the rugs and the grease, watching if the boy had understood his instruction.

It didn't take him too long to understand the process. He had listened carefully, taking in the demonstration. It's not like it was anything complex, his mind telling him that he was capable of much more complicated tasks, this feeling like child's play in comparison. He couldn't of course remember what those tasks were, but he could tell, this felt really easy, his mind so used to the daily, mental workout that everything outside of it seemed easy. He followed the instructions with no issue, getting lost in the mundane action, rather bored, actually. It wasn't quick work either. In the mean time, he had time to get lost in his thoughts again, little by little.

Hannes had made sure that Varian could do this, the child was very skilled and concentrated during his task, completely different from before. Actually working seemed to make him forget to be shy. Hannes soon took a sickle to sharpen it, sure Varian could handle his task, without someone who controlled him the whole time. The men talked a bit while working, not much, but it was a pleasant atmosphere. Hannes bantered a bit with them, getting more of his own work done. Eventually, he looked over to Varian, the boy had kept quiet all the time, something that some parents would welcome for sure, but to Hannes it only showed that the boy was about to shut himself off. Nothing the man would let happen here. "So, boy..." He turned a bit more to Varian. "You like your task so far?"

He shrugged, continuing without looking at him. "It's fine, I guess." he replied, not meaning to sound offensive, but not wanting to lie and say he had a good time either. "But... I don't know, it doesn't really feel like my kind of thing... Have I done this before?" he asked them. They may not be Quirin, but he hoped they knew at least something about him. More than he knew about himself, at least.

Hannes replied after some seconds of thinking about it. "No. Well, not that I would know it. Not here, for sure." He looked down on his own work, sharpening tools may not be the task Quirin would like to see his child occupied with, one wrong motion and he could get a cut. Yet, Varian seemed not very happy with the task. "So, what would your kind of thing be?"

"Huh?" he looked at him, a bit dumbfounded. "Who, me?" he uttered, at loss for words. He really didn't expect him to ask such a thing, for anyone to be interested in what he liked. He would have been excited actually, except for the fact, that he himself did not know. He tried to remember, what had Quirin said? "Um, let's see... I... like reading. I sometimes bake. I draw too!" he replied, listing them one by one, uncertain if he was missing anything.

Hannes nodded interested, the boy finally opening up a little. "You seem to be very creative, then." Another man huffed quietly. " _Creative,_ yes..."

A knot formed in his stomach. What did they mean by that? Was it a bad remark? Were they making fun of him? He pressed his lips in a thin line, looking down, trying to focus on his work. Did he say something wrong? He couldn't tell. And he didn't dare to ask. He learned his lesson, yesterday. _Trust none._

The farmer shot a glare at the man who had made the comment. Now was not the time for sharp comments, the boy was here to help, offending him would only destroy whatever Quirin's attempts had been so far. Hannes tried to save the situation. "What books do you like to read?"

Varian's shoulders raised to his ears as he tried to hide a little, become a ball, take up as little space as he could. He wasn't sure what to make of this kind of attention. What if they wanted to mock him for what he liked? No, he had to tread carefully, now. "Oh, you know... Stuff..."

This was no answer that told Hannes anything. Except Varian was about to retreat. The farmer laid the finished sickle aside and grabbed the next one. "And what kind of stuff?"

'Damn it, what does he want now? Why is he persisting?' he thought, knitting his brows a little as his movement became more aggressive. "Like... books... with- with pages... and words..." he replied dryly, almost murmuring now. He could just hope no one would make fun of him now, making him fully hide in his own shell.

Hannes raised his brows. "Wait- really? There are words?!" The man chuckled. "Come on boy, what's the matter? Are your books a secret?" He stopped his work and looked over to Varian, his eyes searching for him.

The joke only made him more defensive. "I-" he cut himself off, searching for the words still. "I don't want to discuss this..." he finally said, retreating more to his corner, trying to distance himself, his stomach feeling almost sick. 'Dad... come back, please...' he thought, afraid that they would also treat him the same way the children did yesterday, betray him any minute. And against them, there was no way he could stand a chance.

His attempt to be funny to reach the child, failed utterly. A bit disappointed, he leaned back and scratched the spot behind his ear. "It's alright." He said in the end. "You don't have to. I just thought you could recommend a good book, my little daughter is about to learn to read and I thought a new book would be a great idea."

The new information made him ease himself a little, looking over at him with the corner of his eye, his brows relaxing too. He felt a little bad now. He just cared for his child, like Quirin did for him. But, then another question came up. Was she there yesterday? Did he know his daughter without realising? The thought unnerved him again. Facing him after his own child may have been there yesterday, doing nothing while Stephan did what he did. It annoyed him and frustrated him, being unable to show his anger and sadness and fear to anyone else. But then again, these people didn't mean much to him, they were strangers to him, as much as he was to them. Again, the only reason he had come here, was because Quirin asked him to. Anything outside of helping his father with the work and potentially learning about who he was, was simply not interesting to him. So he simply focused on his task, silent. It wasn't efficient to chatter while working after all, of that he felt absolute certain.

Hannes was so close to simply give up - maybe it would even be the right thing to do - but he had always been a bit stubborn. "Well... if you don't want to talk about the books then maybe the drawing? Or baking? I always heard you would be chatty if someone listens, so why so quiet now?"

Chatty? Him? He didn't expect that. And who did he talk to even? He had no friends, Quirin confirmed it for him, even. So, who- And how did he know that? Could he trust it? It's not like he had anything to gain, he supposed. But what if it was meant to challenge him? To start talking till they could find something to use against him? No, he couldn't risk it. He gulped and spoke again, determined. "Working while talking is distracting, slows you down. It is far more efficient to focus on the task at hand, lowers the margin of error and minimises the chance for accidents too.". It was so weird, saying those things, feeling like some old mantra he used to tell himself, as if he had heard it a million times, just like his mother's lullaby. A phrase really familiar and really close to him. Was he really that type? It felt right to speak this way, they might even take him seriously with that tone, he assumed. Wouldn't make sense to mock someone smarter than them. But then again, these weren't kids...

There it was! This almost never-ending stream of words, too precise and lengthy for a child's comment. Hannes was for a moment surprised, the boy sounding suddenly so precocious and even a bit cheeky. But he wouldn't let this stop him, instead he gave him a crooked smile. "...and boring."

Varian's shoulders slumped, unamused by the comment. What did this guy want anyway? What's with the talkative mood? Was everyone in this village that chatty? Apparently he was too, according to him. He wasn't sure why it irritated him so much. Maybe it was the uncertainty. Who can he trust for sure? Who was truly his friend? Even if he was no harm, he didn't hold any answers about himself, not enough to make conversation. He just went back to his task. Even if he were to ask about himself, he knew better than to trust anyone other than Quirin, at least no one while his father wasn't present.

Hannes sighed defeated. Now he really didn't know what to say anymore. Varian seemed to want to stay quiet, at all cost. "Fine, boy, do your thing. Stay quiet, if you like. But if you should change your mind, just say something." The man had tried everything, if the child refuses so extremely any conversation, pushing had no use. He now turned a bit to the others, chatting to them instead.

Varian sighed a little relieved. Finally, some space to breathe. He stayed on his task now, nothing to stop him or break the immersion. He spent the rest of his time like this, unwilling to talk, nothing to say. He just appreciated being left alone, out of potential danger. It was better this way. Once Quirin was done too, they could go home.

The farmers took their time, they worked steady, but without a hurry, they would get their job done, before sunset. The mood was great, they had almost forgotten the boy was with them, making even one or two rough jokes. Still, their gazes went to the quiet frame in the corner, mute like a shadow, yet present, a dark spot in their pleasant round. The child did the task he was told, but nothing more. Maybe Quirin's son was so moody, because it was a kind of punishment? They didn't speak it out aloud, but some questioning glances made the round, quiet whispers even. Hannes gave them some disapproving glares, but in the end, he couldn't stop them.

Soon enough, Varian was finished, no more leather straps left to take care of. He hang them where Hannes had showed him, but then quickly realised, he was empty handed, nothing to do, no more reason to remain in the room. He rocked on his heels a little, looking over at the others, still talking and bantering. However, he turned quickly, looking away from them, pretending to be busy with the straps, arranging them or something, trying to look preoccupied. They were whispering earlier, glancing at him from time. They must have been talking about him. Why else would they keep their voices low... His chest tightened at the thought. What were they saying? Must have been the streak. It's all people talked about, when they saw him, anyway. It was like a circus, right on his head. Last thing he needed, was for it to glow and he'd be a first seat, freak-show attraction.

Quirin had worked on the plough so far, slowly coming to an end too. It really had been in a rough shape, he had replaced some screws and wooden parts and now, he was about to sharpen the metal. With swift moves, he let the grindstone flow over the surface, creating a clear edge again. Although he should concentrate, his thoughts were with Varian. Was he able to do his task? Were the others nice to him? Maybe he even had an interesting conversation? Hannes was very talkative and motivating, Quirin was sure Varian had a good time, over there. Still, his gut feeling mumbled something different, making him slightly nervous as finally, a wave of doubts broke free and flooded through him. What if he kept his distance? Or even refused to help? What if-  
A sharp pain rushed through Quirin's arm, making him breath in deeply with a long and loud hiss. He had been this deep in thoughts that his hand had slipped without knowing, noticing only as the metal cut through his skin on the arm. It was not very deep but smarting, some blood drops running down his arm as he raised his hand to investigate the cut.

Varian jolted at the sound, running Quickly to his father, the man hiding in another stall, as he worked. "Dad! Dad, are you okay?! Dad-" he rushed there, freezing in place, after seeing the blood. He wasn't sure why, but his knees felt weak, a grimacing smile on his face, as he he pointed at the red with a shaking hand. "Is- Is that- Ha.. is it..." he laughed quietly and then sighed, falling down and blacking out.

Quirin whirled around, as he heard the worried voice of his son, staring at the child's face which turned white as flour, in an instant, as soon as he saw the blood. _Oh no!_ The father could already tell what would happen now, and he lunged desperately, forward to catch him, yet not fast enough to prevent the fall. Instead, he threw himself on his knees and cushioned the impact by catching his head and shoulders, before they would hit the ground. His arm protested angrily over the new stress the movement brought, but Quirin ignored it, simply gritting his teeth as reaction. The boy was completely unconscious, an old habit, whenever he had seen blood. This had made his childhood even a bit more troublesome. As a kid, he had scraped knees a few times, as well as other scratches whenever he had been too energetic. Well, at least Quirin had become quite good at catching falling things immediately, he had already trained as Varian was a toddler and other stuff had to be rescued, before they would shatter on the ground. But this here, was his son, not an old cup, and his raised heartbeat calmed down, only slowly, from the shock. "Varian, are you alright?" He asked although the boy's eyes were still closed, his features without any movement. He had bedded the head onto his lap, scanning Varian with his gaze over and over for a tiny sign he would wake up. He knew the boy would do this eventually, still he couldn't help but worry.

He groaned and opened his eyes, looking up at his father's face. It didn't take him too long to wake up, just enough to give Quirin a scare, however. "Dad? What happened? Y-You okay?" he asked, trying to sit up, again, remembering slowly why he got there, in the first place. The blood. Why did he black out? He fainted? It looked like it. Why though? Was he afraid? As much as he didn't want to admit, it irked him too much, couldn't stand the sight. At least he learned another bit of info about himself.

The tension in Quirin faded, as Varian's eyelids fluttered open and his confused gaze searched for his father's face. A second later, the boy seemed to remember and he struggled to push himself up, Quirin gently supported him by the shoulders. "Slowly, take your time." He kept steadying him, didn't want the child to black out again, because of the rushed movement. "I'm alright, it's just a scratch." It throbbed and stung a bit with each move, but the bleeding was not much. An unnecessary wound, thanks to his inattention, which had just caused trouble, in the end. He let go of his shoulder and placed the injured arm a bit deeper, making sure the red was not in Varian's sight again. "But what about you? Does anything hurt?" Quirin was glad he had been able to catch him, at least a bit, but what if the boy still had gotten hurt by the fall?

"I'm alright, really." he turned to look at him, a sincere answer reflected on his features, still worried about his dad, instead. To him, it looked really bad. He didn't exactly examine it or anything, but it was bleeding, so it wouldn't be good. "What happened?"

"I just wasn't attentive enough, while grinding, and my hand slipped. Got the cut from the plough." He looked over to the tool, after all it was finished, the edge was sharp enough now, he could tell for sure.

"O-oh... Shouldn't we do something about it?" he asked, trying to get back up again, still looking at his father, chewing his lip. Did they even have what they needed in here? It suddenly hit him, it'd be the perfect opportunity to go home! Away from here. All there was in the barn, was tool and such, nothing to treat an injury. Although, the tools looked somewhat familiar. Wrenches, hammers, metal bits and pieces. He felt as if he had seen those before. Oddly reminiscent of the drawing he did when he woke up.

Varian was still worried, yet he didn't dare to look at the wound. It was just like yesterday, but this time the roles swapped. Quirin had also insisted to treat even a scratch. Varian had learned this from him and Quirin didn't want to belittle the injury any longer, destroying his own lessons. Varian was a good boy, he really cared for his father. "You are right, we better treat it." The man rose to his feet and held out the unharmed arm, to help his son up. But before they would leave, he wanted to know one thing first. "How far have you come with your work?"

"Oh, I'm all done." he replied, hoping that'd be even more of an excuse for them to finally, leave this place. He wasn't sure if he could take their stares and whispers much longer.

This answer pleased the father so much, that a smile appeared in his face. "You did? That's great. Well done." He ruffled the child's hair and then he bowed down to picked up the tools that were scattered over the ground, cleaning up the working space so they could leave, without guilty conscience. He soon finished and they walked side by side, over to the others. The men looked concerned, the boy had suddenly rushed away, without any reason and it had taken a while before anything else happened. Now, Quirin was there and they almost expected he would claim they had mistreated his boy, this troublesome brat that even refused to talk to Hannes. But instead of any scolding, their leader had a small smile on his lips. "Good news, I was able to maintain the plough, we can use it again without any problems." He looked in the round, seeing that the men also had made good work, so far. "I heard my son finished his task too." Hannes nodded at this words, the boy may had been quiet, but not lazy. This confirmation was good for Quirin. "Very well. In this case we will leave. Or is there anything else I need to know?"

Varian followed his father, but made sure to hide behind him, once they approached the others. He didn't want anyone to start staring at him, again. Inside his head, he begged that they could just be done already, to go home, to hide. Far away from those people. For every good thing that happened today, the bad ones doubled that amount. It's about time they called it a day, before anything worse happened...

The men denied Quirin's question. Instead they, were rather relieved both would leave. It was not clear what the boy had told his father about them. Some glanced at the small frame who tried to hide, very suspicious in their eyes. Probably, he hoped Quirin would say anything. But in the end, the father only nodded and waved them goodbye, while he took his cloak and the cape, guiding his child outside. After the door had closed, the atmosphere lit up again. "So, let's go home." said Quirin, tiredly. The day had not exactly been as good as the father had hoped, but there must have been a bit of improvement, right? "How was working with them?" he asked curiously, a little nervous, too. Hannes had been so welcoming, they had probably a good conversation.

Varian hurried to put on his cloak again, hiding his hair under the hood, just like before. It was a pseudo-shield, but he did feel safer this way. None could look at something they couldn't see, right? Then Quirin asked him about his work, particularly how he worked with the others. Did he want to tell him the truth, even if he wasn't quite sure, or sugarcoat it and calm him down? "It was fine. We worked alright." he said, avoiding to look at him.

Quirin believed him in this matter. "I'm glad. You talked a bit too?" The snow crunched under their feet as they walked along. He gave him a hopeful gaze. The adults had treated him well, no tears in the child's eyes. Probably he had fun too!

"Uh- Yeah, sure..." he replied, his pace hurrying a little more. He didn't want to talk about this. All he wanted was to be home again. To run away. To go back to his room where he felt safe. Was that too much to ask?

"That's great." It really seemed like it had been the best course of action. "I'm sure I can find again a task for you, the next time we meet up, here." He hadn't thought he could introduce Varian this early into the village leader tasks, but it all had worked so well, the boy would surely benefit from all those experiences!

He hummed and nodded, halfheartedly, his entire being wanting to flee as fast as possible, but he held himself back, not wanting to appear suspicious. He hoped and begged and prayed they wouldn't come across anyone, anyone at all! He couldn't deal with another encounter. He didn't know if he was always this way, but as of now, he couldn't stand being outside. Being seen. Being judged.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sledging accident, Varian lost his memory, completely.  
> When Quirin found him like this, it became clear that it wouldn't be an easy task to awaken his memories again, that is if the boy really should remember everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction is a collaboration with nyxglitch on tumblr (https://nyxglitch.tumblr.com/)! It is an rp, that's why the passages will switch the points of view.
> 
> warning: minor mention of blood

Their way back didn't take as long as they had needed to get to the barn. Quirin chose a direct path, avoiding the square, since he had told Varian they would take care of the cut, another chat would just take time and besides, Varian looked rather nervous, here. Maybe he was afraid he could meet the kids, again and they would throw more snowballs at him. No, Varian had seen enough for today, it was time to go home. Whenever they spotted someone, he waved friendlily but never stopped. Luckily, no one insisted to talk to him. Soon they left the houses behind and the old castle came into their sight, the roofs and tops of the towers covered with snow, a huge building with solid walls, a home.

At last, after the walk that wouldn't want to end, they reached their objective, closer one step at a time. Varian hurried his pace a little, the few seconds that would get them there faster, making all the difference in his mind. Finally, home. Finally, back to where he wouldn't feel like all eyes were glued on him, where he wouldn't be judged. Back to his fortress. 

Varian rushed in the end, hopping the steps up to the front door. Maybe he was a bit cold, yearning for the cozy warmth of the fireplace? "Careful, Varian, don't slip!" Quirin adapted his pace also a bit, his breathing a little heavier, as he took the steps to the entrance. He opened the door to the inside, letting Varian step in. The excitement of the child to come back amused him somehow, he was glad Varian liked the castle, the child had settled in again, a happy comment leaving the father's lips. "Seems like you missed home."

He rubbed his upper arms to warm up, finally away from the freezing cold. "A bit..." he chuckled, a little forced. He took off the cloak and his coat, finally rid of all that weight, but, most of all, no longer having to cover the streak. 

Quirin took both pieces and stored them away. While slipping out of his coat, he had another question. "Since you had been so hardworking today, you can decide what you want to have for dinner." The father put his coat away, finally turning back to Varian. "What would you like?"

Varian was heading to the stairs, stopping in his tracks when Quirin spoke to him. "Uh-... I-I don't mind..." he replied, never actually looking at him. He waited a second or two, adding a slightly more lively "You can chose, I'll go wash up..." and then continued on his course. He appreciated Quirin's interest, wanting to let him make a decision based on what he wanted. But Varian wasn't in the mood for difficult decisions, ones based on his own wants and likes, things that he himself had barely any knowledge on. He didn't want to put the effort, it felt unnecessary, too exhausted to try. He instead headed up the stairs, went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Quirin watched the boy leaving, the unmotivated answer disappointing him. What was with this sudden change in mood? The child hadn't even looked at him. Something seemed to be off. Varian was already out of sight and it felt like he had fled. Quirin pondered a moment longer, but then he started to move, following the child, upstairs. Whatever was wrong, he would give his best to make it right again.

He leaned over the counter, the mirror in front of him. First thing he saw when he looked at his reflection, the same thing everyone else was staring at all day, the streak. Was it  _that_ visible?  _That_  noticeable that people needed to discuss and look and attack him for it? He couldn't understand, he really could not. The other children had said that he was a threat, a danger. But he just couldn't grasp why they would associate those accidents with his streak. Was it a superstition? What proof was there even, that this is what was causing them misfortune?! He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth, his eyes welling up. His grip on the counter tightened, too. Today would have been alright, if it weren't for the streak! Heck, none of yesterday's events would have happened either if it simply wasn't there! They really did see him as a circus freak, didn't they? That's why they kept pointing at it! Once he hid it under the hood, however, they had left him alone! Well then, if that were the case, there was an easy fix for that problem. He glanced at his side. The scissors were still there. He grabbed them, his hands shaking, but he didn't pay it any mind. With his other hand, he grabbed the streak, pulling it away from the rest of his hair, a separate piece that didn't belong on him. The blue strands, now, stood between the blades of the scissors, a single motion away from being cut and rid of. He looked at himself in the mirror, breath hitching, making him spasm, the rest of him, remaining frozen in place. 'Come on, just do it!' he growled through his teeth, all while a voice in the back of his mind was screaming 'No!'. So much so, that it was impossible to ignore. He sobbed and bit his lip, eyes shut firmly and his mind made up, ready to finally finish this, a single snip away from being normal.  _'Quirin deserves to have a normal son.'_

Quirin reached the closed door, the situation reminding him a bit of the one in the morning. The wooden door felt like a barrier Varian had built up. No water could be heard, even though the boy had told him he would go to wash himself, making the father listening more carefully. And there was it - a sob cut through the silence, Varian was crying in this makeshift hideout, shutting Quirin out to suffer on his own. The father had heard enough. Without thinking, he pushed down the handle, rushing into the room. "Varian, what's wrong?" His eyes captured the frame of his son, right in front of the mirror, his hands above his head - what was he doing?! Silver glistened there too, the scissor in the child's hands, the streak between the blades- "NO!" Quirin rushed forward, grabbing for the tool and his hands. He shouldn't cut it, no, not the streak!

Varian ignored his calls, about to close the scissors, until Quirin grabbed his hands, the boy fighting against his grip, demanding that he'd let him go. He tried to keep steady, to finish what he started, Quirin or no Quirin. With all he had, he held the hair, trying to aim the scissors, and without second thought, closed them swiftly, a snip and a pained scream being heard. He finally dropped the tool, slipping off his grip, his other hand going limp, too, as a whimper left him. Pained cries filled the room now, his resistance stopping and his hair still perfectly intact. 

Quirin tried with all his force to pry the scissors out off the boy's hands, the kid stubborn as ever, as he fought back and moved and wriggled, refusing to give up. In all this chaos, the blades closed without aiming, too fast and cutting, not hair, but skin, instead. Varian cried out in pain, letting go of the scissors and a familiar noise resounded as the metal hit the ground. It was the same as in the morning! He had tried this before! But as fast as the thought appeared in his mind, as fast did the father shove it away - his son was wounded, whimpering in pain, and somehow... somehow it was Quirin's fault. "Varian!" The man moved around the child, with upwelling panic - their scissors were sharp, very sharp - to the side with the injury, taking his hand quickly, but gently to investigate the cut. With held breath, he turned it around, the cut running across the upper side of his fingers, where the blade scraped over the surface of the skin. It was, luckily, not deep, but still hurtful. The father looked at it with beating heart, the small, bloody hand in his palms and simply stared a moment at it, as he gulped down.  _Why had this happened?_  His gaze wandered upwards, searching for his son's eyes, confused and sad about the incident, an unspoken 'why?' written all over  his face.

He couldn't talk. Both of them left in an unbearable silence. He stared back at him, speaking without words. He could see the question in his father's eyes, their colour not even close to his own, blue ones. The blue swimming in the tears, glassy eyes trying to apologise, to tell him why he was trying to do this, but it'd be impossible without words. In the meantime, his hand continue to twitch, the stinging still there, reminding him not to look. He blinked quickly, a few times, until he couldn't hold back a sob any longer, his head dropping, looking at the floor, instead. Was he mad at him? He must have. Maybe Quirin was the reason why the streak had stayed after all. Maybe the old Varian hadn't cut it because the father wouldn't let him. It seemed plausible. But he couldn't confirm it through speculation alone. Still, it was a question for a later time. 

Quirin didn't get an answer, the boy just fought against the tears, no word leaving his lips. In the end, his head sunk, dark bangs covering his face completely, like he could shut out his father, again. The sight hurt, letting Quirin's heart ache. He felt just heavy and tired, his brows dropping sadly, just like the corners of his mouth. But now was no time for all those feelings, he should better treat this new injury. He knelt down, both hands on the child's shoulders to get his attention. "Let me take care of the wound. Will you follow me downstairs?"

Varian took his hand close to himself, holding it from the wrist. He nodded at Quirin's question, still unable to look at him. Still crying. Not because his hand was hurting, however, that was merely an inconvenience. Varian was scared, tired, wishing to be something he wasn't, and was even so close to making a first step to that picture in his head. But it couldn't be. Not right now. From the way Quirin had reacted, he had forbidden him from cutting of his hair, that one blue streak to be specific. Question was, though, why.

Varian didn't refuse, at least he would follow Quirin. Before he stood up, the father stoked gingerly over the back of the boy's head, his hand resting for a moment on his neck. "Let's go." He walked downstairs with wide steps, the face with a serious expression. First, he would treat the wound and then, then they needed to talk. No more dancing around the topics. No more awkward silence to cover behind secrets. They will- had to talk, truly, honestly. Quirin pressed his lips together. If only his stomach wouldn't tangle in thousand knots.

He followed, trying to drown out his own voice. How did this happen? This isn't how it was supposed to go! He would have cut off the awful blue and then carried on with his life. Sure, Quirin may had still gotten mad about it. But he was sure he could explain to him. No, he  _had_ to explain him, to make him understand. There was no other way. 

Quirin led him to the fireplace and gestured at the pillow. A heavy silence was between them, no one dared to speak up, for now. Fortunately, Varian understood what his father tried to tell him and took a seat. The fire was almost burned down completely, some red spots left that gleamed and radiated warmth. Quirin took care of this first, adding some twigs and smaller logs, for a start. The fire reignited, an excited crackling followed after the flames started to grow, dancing along the new wood. He patted his gloved hands on his trousers and walked over to the things he had brought over here, yesterday. Wordless, he grabbed the piece of fabric and the alcohol. In the end, he had another wound to clean. How could it be? Everyday a new injury? Today should have been different, but apparently something had gone wrong, horribly wrong. The serious expression stayed, as he took a seat next to the boy and tended to the cut, this stupid, unnecessary cut. His lips were a thin line, sealed at the moment, just doing everything in a deadly silence. In the end, he squeezed gently the fingertips of the small hand and let go. His gaze wandered back to the fire, now bigger, stronger, heating up the room much better than the tiny pile of wood and embers that it had been before.

The boy had not dared to look at his hand for a single second. He recalled how he fainted earlier, and even after the punch, yesterday, although he could have sworn it was due to the impact. Regardless, he didn't need this right now. And besides, he couldn't look Quirin in the eye. He just let him work, wincing as the cut got disinfected, but no other sound from that. If it weren't for the fire warming him up, he would have felt unsafe again, as if he were still out there, still in the cold. But as Quirin held his hand a little, he was reminded, again, where he was and who he was with. He finally, turned to look at him, almost, but not entirely, certain that Quirin was no longer mad. The man was now, looking away, focused on the fire. He couldn't take the silence any more. The crackling of the wood, not enough noise to distract them from the unspoken disappointment. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, still a little defensive. He didn't mean to inconvenience Quirin, or worse, somehow insult him by wanting to cut off his hair. Was that it? Was the man offended that the 'new' Varian didn't like the blue on his bangs?

Quirin raised his head a little at the sound, processing it for a heartbeat, before he turned to look at Varian. His gaze was still tired, but loving and a faint spark of hope could be seen. Hope they could talk over this mess. He reached out and cupped the child's cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb. "And I'm sorry you got hurt, again." He was still disappointed in himself, he hasn't been able to prevent this. He had interfered and the outcome had been even worse. But what had driven the boy to try to cut his hair? Fighting against him even, to achieve this goal? "Varian..." The blue streak had always been a part of his son. Like his bright blue eyes, or the freckles or his buck teeth. It belonged to Varian. So what had changed? "...why did you try this?"

Varian looked at him, but slowly his gaze dropped again, searching for the words, away from Quirin's eyes. "I just thought... Maybe... If I didn't have the streak anymore... I'd be normal at last." he said, the words both easy and difficult to say, all at once. "Maybe then, people wouldn't look at me weird, o-or whisper behind my back or make fun of me or blame me for things I've never done!" he added, getting emotional, again, as his tone rose with every word. 

Quirin listened attentively, a calm and interested expression in his face. His inner state however, was completely different. Varian still suffered under the last events, all his insecurities were breaking through the surface and his final solution had been to blame the streak for it, this beautiful blue streak. The boy was close to tears, a sight that made Quirin's heart ache so much, but what could he say, how could the father explain it? The last mention gave him a sharp sting, it must have been his conscience, for sure, he knew  _exactly_  why they were blaming the child, but he couldn't tell him,  _he couldn't._  Varian couldn't stand this, wouldn't stand this, not now. He had brought people in danger and now they didn't trust him. Quirin wanted so badly to change this. Why did it have to be so difficult? A sad sigh escaped him, as he closed his eyes for a moment, a break he needed to sort his feelings and find a beginning for what he wanted to say. When he opened them again, he slowly reached out for his son's unharmed hand and turned it so the wrist was visible. There was a small dark spot on the skin, a mark Quirin had seen so often already while Varian had been very young, whenever he had outstretched his hands to reach up to him, to get a hug or be carried around. It always had been there. Now, his thumb was placed close by it and he spoke up with a calm voice. "Do you see this mole?"

He watched Quirin's movements carefully, staying still, not retreating or flinching. Then, his eyes were directed at the small spot on his wrist. What a silly question, of course he saw it! "Yes..." he nodded, a little confused as to what this was meant to accomplish. He simply waited for him to continue, hoping that this wasn't just some distraction from the blue elephant in the room. That Quirin wouldn't try to sweep it under the rug, just because Varian was being emotional. He needed answers for the real issue. "What about it?" 

"Varian, this mole is a part of you, has always been. Just like your freckles. Or your eyes. Or your teeth. And also the streak in your hair. It's a part of 'Varian', my son. All those things are a part of you and I like them all." While speaking, Quirin's gaze had wandered away from the dark point, up to Varian's face, looking him in the eyes, determined and honest. Quirin loved Varian's appearance exactly the way he was. He didn't have to change anything. The father just hoped he could make Varian see this.

A few things started falling into place. Mainly the fact that his suspicion was correct. He did keep the streak because of his father. And as touching as his sentiment was, this was here and now, what the old Varian would have said and done was not relevant. He lowered his gaze, knitting his brows in a puzzled frown. "Well, I don't..." he uttered, final and stubborn. "I don't like it at all, I hate it!" he added, his voice becoming louder, finally looking at his father. "You- You haven't seen what they did to me because of it?! I-If I get rid of it, maybe then they'll leave me alone!" **  
**

Quirin's brows sunk down sadly. Varian was so blunt, so convinced. "That's not it. Varian, they haven't done this because of the streak." He made a short break, breathing in deeply. "They treated you like that because they wanted to. They wanted to hurt you and they did. They... would have used anything to call your names. So... if you cut off your streak... and they laugh about your teeth... then what? It's not the right way to change because they mock you about that. They will just search for another thing. And... they will always find something if they try hard enough. See, if they wanted to make fun of me, they could laugh about my bushy brows. Every human has features someone could laugh at. Just don't listen. Don't let them have their way." He didn't want Varian to give in. These kids weren't worth adapting, they even tried to tell him his mother left him with another man. No, they would only laugh and mock him even more the moment they would realize they could manipulate his son.

Varian frowned more, Quirin both right and wrong, missing Varian's point. "They already did... But that's not the point! The point is that everyone sees me as a freak, because of it!" he snapped, frustration building up now. "And the worst part? They are right... This-" he picked the streak between his fingers, holding it for Quirin to look at. "This isn't normal, dad..." he breathed out, defeated as he started to calm down again. "I don't know what the old me would have done or how I felt about it. But, right now, I can't stand it." he admitted. He was uncertain about what the old Varian, the real Varian, would have done. But he was sure, that now, he didn't want to be this way. 

Quirin's eyes had widened as Varian raised his voice and all the anger and frustration resounded in his words. The child really hated his streak, so much that Quirin simply had to give in. His gaze went downwards, defeated. Who was he to urge his own son to run around with a feature he hated so deeply? With something that was fixed easily? In the end, he didn't have the right to make this decision, even if his heart felt like being squeezed to death. His mouth shut close, lips pressed together as he tried to bring himself to give his permission to cut the hair. It felt so wrong. Should he really say it? But suddenly, he recalled something else. There was one tiny detail Varian didn't know right now. Something that could make the change. And exactly this thing fought it's way through his dry throat, demanding to be said. Not afterwards when it was too late. Now. Finally, it left his lips in a faint whisper. "Your mother loved this streak, too."

The boy looked away, blue eyes staring into nothingness as he held back tears, chewing his lip. He took a deep breath. Why did he say that now? To guilt trip him? Or just to remind him why he kept it? Both? He couldn't tell. He couldn't tell and it was driving him crazy. Did he really keep that thing, front and center simply because his parents liked it? That couldn't be all of it could it? It frustrated him, so badly, not knowing his own thoughts and opinions and feelings. He wiped his eyes, his movements aggressive and fast. So what if his mother loved the streak? She wasn't around any more, he didn't even remember her. The thought broke his heart a little further. From what Quirin had told him, she loved him, more than anything in the world. And that included that horrible bit of hair, too. "Why...?" he asked, voice hoarse and tearful, heavy with tiredness. It was a very important question, not just for his mother, his father too. How did they learn to love this anomaly, while everyone else had grown to fear it and mock it. 

The question was not easy. It was a feeling, nothing to be captured with words. But he could try at least. "You had this streak since your hair grew longer, a blue dot in your black hair. We loved it the moment we spotted it for the first time. It made you special, unique, it is a beautiful color in our eyes. Whenever your mother brushed your hair, her eyes lay on the blue, she even had a nickname for you." He breathed in, the memory both, beautiful and heartbreaking. They had simply accepted it, embraced it. He had not even recognised someone else might take it as something to mock his son with. Has it always been this way? Had Varian kept quiet about those incidents? Did he maybe hate the streak already, since long ago?

Varian listened, trying to imagine it, to believe it. It didn't sound impossible for them to not see him as a freak, to love him despite his odd appearance, one that bared no resemblance to either of them. Not only did they not abandon him because of it. They had the heart to accept and love it, too. It was a shame they seemed to be the only two people in this entire village, if not the whole world. It certainly felt this way. Maybe their own kind words and reassuring affection, was the reason why he himself had kept it. Quirin had called it unique, special. Neither of which where negative words. It still made him uneasy to have it, the teal flowing in a pitch-dark ocean, no answer as to how or why it got there. Questions that not even his parents seemed to have ever asked. At the very least, he understood why his old self had kept it, why it had been a part of him up until now, why he wasn't afraid to display it. But then again, if it had also caused him so much pain from the villagers, how come he didn't change his mind? He remained silent for a long moment, thinking of all this. Some pieces seemingly missing. Come to think of it, hating him simply because of a superstition did seem odd, yet not that far fetched. But still, the full picture remained somewhat hidden in shadow. But one thing was for certain, now. It pained Quirin to watch his son abandon parts of himself, one by one, that started to make more sense. "So, I've always had it? And it never scared you that your child looked like this? Not even a little?" 

"No, why should I? Every time you laughed, your blue eyes sparkled, full of joy and I simply had to smile. I know parents tend to tell this, but you were the cutest baby in the whole village. The streak just made you more adorable, your mother never hid it." Quirin's gaze wandered into the distance, pictures of the past playing in front of his inner eyes. A small bundle in his arms, looking up to him full of trust. The blue streak already visible. It was his wife who had spotted it first. The moment she did, her eyes had lit up and she had called to him, showed him this special feature with so much excitement. Their baby boy had just looked confused first, not aware why his parents were so cheerful, all at once. But soon, he saw his mum smiling so broadly that he started to chuckle, so warm and happy, only babies were able to do. No, Quirin had never feared it, not a second.

He said that they were never afraid of it, yet, he himself was starting to be afraid. Maybe not so much of the mysterious streak anymore, but the way others reacted to it. If Quirin didn't want him to get rid of it, his next best solution was to simply hide in the house from now on. Not that he had anywhere to go beyond these walls, anyway. Not much of interest seemed to lie out there, maybe except for any merchants, as he was told earlier in the day. Besides, like his father said, he shouldn't change just because they demanded it. They wouldn't hold back to find other things to point and laugh at, after all, they had proven that pretty well, yesterday. The more he thought about it, actually, the more he remembered that the streak didn't bother him at all, up until people started to point it out. If he always had a problem with it, it would have been long gone, not to mention, he would have probably remembered if he hated it so much. So he hoped at least. "Do we know what caused it? And why everyone seems to hate me so much for it?" he finally asked, trying so hard to find the root of the problem. If cutting it off wasn't the solution, then what was it?

Varian fell silent, it seemed like he would process all the things Quirin had said. The father watched him, not interrupting in any way. Finally, the boy asked for what had caused the streak. Quirin rubbed his neck, struggling for words. "Well... we... we don't know what could have caused this." His head turned back to his son, his expression sincere now. "But it doesn't matter anyway. It's here, just like normal hair. Your skin has moles too. There are people with different colored eyes. Also big birthmarks. A human body can have very interesting features, and some people laugh at them, mock them, but in the end, it just shows how diverse we are."

That answer didn't help at all. It explained nothing. But it wasn't like he expected a clear answer, either. It certainly did feel like Quirin was dancing around the topic, avoiding a straightforward response, at all cost. Maybe he simply didn't know the answer and didn't like disappointing his son, either. Varian hugged his knees, once again left in the dark. At the very least, Quirin was right there with him. He was not alone. And when the world is against you, that's all that matters. He sighed and looked at Quirin. 'Why couldn't I just look more like you...' he thought, convinced that if he was more like his father, none of his problems would be there. He hoped that maybe, without the streak, he could achieve that. But Quirin was clear that he didn't want just another version of himself. He loved his son for being Varian, none else. Maybe he should strive to be that instead? "I... I guess I just wish I knew what they felt like, before I went out there... Then all this wouldn't have happened." he gestured at his face, the bruise still there, looking away now, resting his chin on his knees. 

They boy looked silently at him, a little sad and somehow lost, while he thought about something. Quirin wondered what it could be, but in the end, Varian seemed to have switched the topic in his mind, suddenly bringing up something that almost felt like an accusation. He wished he had known. He wished his father had known. He should have known. Quirin gulped and looked away, guilty to the core. He had known Varian was almost never away. He wasn't aware that they would bully him, but this was just a weak excuse. He had hoped that it would simply change here, a restart, a better start. But in the end, Varian had paid for all the lies and secrets about his friends, that Quirin had told him. Varian had trusted him. The man looked up, eyes searching for his son, the beaten nose, the hopeless face. He had tried to make it better. But this here was worse. His eyesight blurred and he tried to blink the tears away, closing them finally, as he rubbed with his finger the wet spots dry. He better not shed a tear, now. Determined to keep his composure, he raised his head again and tried look through the watery sight, focusing on the boy. But a bit away, on the wall behind him, was the door, the lab door, and his eyes couldn't help but look there. Should he? Should he really? Quirin looked away quickly, gaze now down on the floor. What was he thinking? This was not the way to help his son!

He buried his face into his knees, trying to hide, just how he did when they locked him in that dark and filthy shed. He drew in a shaky breath, held it, then let it out with a small sob. This whole exchange, all the words of encouragement, about how he was unique and the others were wrong, none of it really answered what Varian wanted to hear deep down, what his heart wanted, yet didn't fully know how to describe with words. Regardless, he gathered the jumbled up and confused feeling, the pain that he couldn't exactly locate where it came from and looked up to his father, speaking with tears in his eyes. "Why can't I just be normal? Why- Why can't I be someone you could be proud of, be my old self again! I want to! But... I don't know how." he searched his father's expression, looking for the answer he longed for, hoping to find himself again, but he knew that it would take a lot more than a simple talk to do so. Until then, he was a stranger in someone else's body. Incapable to be the son that Quirin and his wife loved so much. And he wanted to be that, more than anything. 

"Oh Varian." Now it was impossible to hold the tears back, one stubborn drop running down his cheek as he looked at the teary face and listen to the boy's desperate words. He lunged forward and pulled him in a hug. "Varian. I'm sorry. So sorry. You don't need to push yourself." He squeezed him long, but gently. "Take your time. You already found out some pieces. And... you helped me today so much! You really did! Varian, you are a good son." Quirin held the embrace further, refused to let go. He had asked for too much at once and must have given the boy the impression he should be the 'old Varian' in an instant. And on top of that, he had adapted the past and this must have confused the child even more. Now, Varian cried for help. But what could Quirin do? In thoughts, he stroke the child's hair. "Just keep going. Maybe... we could bake some cookies together?" The father knew an easy recipe that he had tried long ago, during wintertime, his little child had asked for them and he didn't want to disappoint him. Maybe this would brighten the boy up, again.

Varian hugged him back, tightly as he could. The last and only person he had left in this world, from the looks of it. He couldn't help but sob, letting it all out at last. He felt as if he had hit a wall, again. No real answers about himself. Just another time gamble. Waiting and hoping that maybe he could be himself, once more. Even though Quirin had confirmed to him that he wouldn't love him any more or any less with or without his memories. To him, he was still his son, no matter if he acted a little different or didn't recall a lot of their moments or even if he looked a little different, without the blue on his hair. Still, a gut feeling kept pestering him, telling him that he was still not the real Varian. And he didn't know how to change that. If he could ever change it. There was silence for a moment, only Varian's sobs echoing in the room, subsiding eventually. Then, Quirin's encouraging words and a question, probably a distraction for them both. He nodded and sniffled, his voice watery. "We could..."

"That's the spirit." Quirin drew away a bit, looking at his son's face. Damp cheeks and reddish eyes, greeted him. The boy had shed already, too many tears, the last few days. The father pulled out a clean tissue and handed it to Varian. Quirin was determined to put a smile on those lips, again. The child hasn't baked in ages, but when he was little, he had enjoyed it. The father got up and stretched out his hand to help Varian up, forgetting that this arm was still untreated, too absorbed in thoughts of what he needed for the recipe. The cookies should turn out great in the end!

He pulled himself up, drying the last of his tears, finally calm, again. But then, his eyes rested on the cut, the thin, red line now closed, but still a mess. He let go of his hand quickly, a little shocked, but tried to keep steady. "Dad, what about your arm?" he asked, alarmed and worried. It had sounded pretty bad back then, but it didn't look too bad, thankfully. 

Quirin suddenly, remembered and his eyes darted to the cut. "Oh, right. I should clean it, too." He bowed down to the alcohol and the fabric and wiped the blood away. "Don't worry, son, it is just a small cut." He looked at his boy, the child way more battered than he was. It was a shame the father had let this happened, he scolded himself for all these misjudgements. He sighed quietly, before an optimistic smile spread in his face. A little forced, but still honest. The last days had been rough for both, time to change this. "No more wounds from now on, alright?"

Varian kept his eyes on him, just in case he needed anything. Thankfully, Quirin had the situation under control. As Quirin was close to done, Varian's gaze drifted towards a door in the wall, that very same one he had yet to see beyond. His father had said that it was nothing more, but a shed, a storage closet, nothing of interest. Yet, he couldn't help but look there, something almost calling him. It was so silly, wasn't it? What was so special about some dusty, old storage room? He couldn't tell. Finally, Quirin spoke, and Varian looked over to him, leaving the mysterious door behind. He smiled at him and nodded, wanting both of them to have better days from now on. 

After the quiet confirmation, the father started to walk ahead. He could hear the steps of his son behind him, resounding in the big hallway. It was so uncommon. Without knowing, his heartbeat grew stronger. They would do something together! It had been years since they done anything great together, the child had always tinkered on his own, while Quirin had done his work at the village and most of the household chores. Banking or cooking together had been something from years ago. Any activity together had been a thing of the past. Even today, they had worked on their own. But now, now it was different. He couldn't help but feel happy about it, a pleasant anticipation rising in him. As he walked through the kitchen door, he stepped immediately to the hook with the apron, shaking it in the blind angle of the open door to get rid of the dust. Varian shouldn't know how long it already hang here. Once this was done, he turned around and held it in front of the child, a dark green apron with a simple style, but it had handy pockets. "Your apron. Do you want to slip into it?"

He followed, a little more cheerful now. But then, quickly froze, his hand stuck mid-motion as he went to take it. His expression a little troubled upon seeing the apron, not the image he had in his head, or rather, not the memory he had. He eyed it, up and down a couple of times, trying to see if he recalled it. "Are you sure that's the one?" he asked, almost certain that he was on the wrong, but a hunch feeling wouldn't leave him be. "I remembered it... redder?" he added, trying to give Quirin what clues he had found for himself, hoping the man's memory would somehow align with his own. 

"Redder?" Quirin gulped as inconspicuously as possible. Could it be? How much could the boy already remember? He struggled for a quick excuse, his eyes darting quickly between the apron and the boy, before they rested onto Varian. "Well, some weeks ago you eyed a reddish one, a merchant had in store. You told me about it, but in the end, you decided against it, because your mother's one is still fine enough to wear. Perhaps that's where the memory comes from?"

He processed it for a moment. It made sense, especially if it was a recent one. Maybe his head was still jumbled up, putting things where they didn't belong. "Right... Probably." he took the apron in his hands and swung it over his head and around his neck, putting it on with familiar motions, even tying it behind his back with no trouble. It made him smile a little, the simple action feeling well-known to him. He then turned to his father, looking eagerly for them to start 

Varian seemed to believe him, the father had convinced him, for now. The interested gaze of the boy, lay onto him and Quirin walked over to the kitchen workbench, grabbing a big, old cooking book. He returned and opened it onto the table, flipping through the pages, with a concentrated expression. Finally, he had found it, the cookie recipe, simple enough for both of them to not mess up. "This is it." He tapped with his finger onto the page to show Varian. In his mind, he already read through it, memorizing the ingredients. "I'll go to the storage room and grab all the things we will need. I'll be right back!" With these words, he patted his son softly on the shoulder and moved over to the door, heading to the storage room.

"A-alright!" he replied, turning back to the book to read the recipe, trying to get a head start on it. It looked like they were going to need some bowls and a measuring cup. He knew what that looked like, he remembered. As for where everything was, well, some quick searching and skimming through the cupboards later, he found the things he needed, the tools and containers now, on the table. He eyed them a bit, the arrangement of all those things feeling like somewhat of a dejavu to him, like he had seen this before. But of course he had! He used to bake! Quirin had told him so, too. He could only hope he could remember enough things to not mess this up. 

The door was ajar, when Quirin returned with his arms full, pushing the door further open with his shoulder. "I'm back." Varian stood in front of the table, lost in thoughts, his hand resting on his chin, as he was pondering over something. He had already arranged all the bowls and tools they would need, in a nearly accurate manner on the table, looking at them with a serious face. It was like he would stand in front of his workbench, thinking about a way to mix new chemical substances together, everything looked so familiar. The same scene, just some minor details different. The apron was the biggest change, the color so unusual on his son, yet he recalled his wife wearing it. A memory of her, suddenly appeared in front of his inner eyes and overlapped with the reality and he felt a moment nostalgic, thrown back into a time he had loved so much. A heartbeat later, he was back, the illusion had faded away and he gave his son a smile. 'Maybe', he thought 'she would love the idea that her son, now, wears her apron.' It clearly suited the boy, she would adore it for sure. With the smile still present, he spoke up again. "I see you already prepared the rest, well done." He approached and placed the ingredients at the table, careful not to break or drop anything. "Let's get started then." The father bowed over the cooking book to read the first lines. "For the start we need flour, do you want to measure it?"

"Sure!" he replied enthusiastically, grabbing the measuring cup and purring some flour in it. He continued with the other ingredients too, following the recipe, the step by step process seeming so easy and effortless to him. Quirin intervened from time to time, making sure to help Varian out when a step didn't make too much sense. Which did feel a little odd to Varian, the whole scene, mixing the different ingredients and such, it all came naturally to him. He couldn't tell why he held certain things as if they were more delicate, as if made of glass, or why it felt out of place for his hands to be covered in flour, with no gloves to keep them safe, or why he kept such a close eye to ensure the exact measurements that were asked for in the recipe, as if a single milligram more or less, would yield an entirely different result. Maybe he just needed some more time to get to the swing of things, just like with everything else. He ignored it, never mentioned these thoughts. Instead, he focused on his task and spending time with his father, both of them in a far happier mood than earlier. The atmosphere was light and freeing, no sorrows to drag them down. It was certainly something he wouldn't want to forget. 

It was completely new to Quirin, to watch his son working. Instead of enthusiastically putting vague amounts together, the boy checked step for step for the right amounts, very concentrated to follow the recipe exactly and listened to Quirin's comments. The father had never thought Varian would work like this, he had assumed a more chaotic strategy, according to the mess in which his experiments mostly ended. Quirin always had rushed into the lab when thick smoke leaked out of the closed door or when he smelled fire or even after explosions. There had been always chaos. Seeing Varian, now, so diligent was completely new to him, it felt nice, calming, and it was like he had learned about a hidden side of his son. The time they spent flew by and soon, the cookies were placed on the baking sheet. Quirin had lit the fire for the oven and with a pleased smile, he placed the sheet into it. He was pretty sure they would turn out well, the dough had been promising. He turned back to Varian. "Alright, now we just need to wait a bit." A chuckle escaped him as he saw a bit of flour on Varian's cheek. With a gentle move of the thumb he wiped it away. "Good work, son."

Varian couldn't hold back a proud smile, his eyes sparkling with joy. He had done good, after all those disasters, and his father was there to see it, too. It was almost like how he felt when he helped with the firewood, but far stronger. Far more rewarding. This time, he didn't falter in the slightest. His eyes then, darted to the cookies, still baking. "So, uh, what now? What do we do while we wait?" he asked, hoping Quirin had planned more for them to do together, but even if he didn't, Varian still had a book he wanted to continue. Maybe read by the fire this time. A fresh plate of warm cookies would only make it better. Now that life, he could get used to. 

Varian's smile made Quirin happy, this was exactly what the father had wanted to achieve. The atmosphere was so nice and pleasant, something he hasn't had for such a long time and now, he finally realized that he had missed something like that. Now, the boy's eyes rested on him, curious for what to do next. "Well." The man gave a look to the table, a little messy after the baking, the used and dirty bowls on it, as well as all the other stuff. "I'll clean this. And if you are already hungry, we could make us some sandwiches to bridge the time until the cookies are done. What do you think?"

It's true, the boy was rather hungry. A whole day of hard work and hours since his last meal, he had began feeling hungry again, the sweet scent from the oven, not helping that cause at all. "Yeah, I could use something to eat." he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous gesture he used to do since a long time ago. He didn't want to be more of a burden, but it wouldn't be smart to skip on meals, wouldn't it? His stomach certainly agreed. "And- And if you want, I can help clean up too!" he added, hoping to make his father even happier by offering help. It had worked earlier too, after all, so it must be the right thing to do.

The last bit made Quirin, indeed, brighten up once more. His brows even moved a bit upwards. Varian really wanted to help with the dishes? "Alright, let's start with the cleaning so we can use the table." He turned around and reached upwards, grabbing a dishtowel, which was hung up on a small wooden bar. "Here. You can dry the dishes once I cleaned them." After handing the fabric to his son, he started to pile up the bowls and carry them to the sink.

Varian took it in his hands, examining it for a second, as if it were alien. Then simply nodded, waiting for Quirin to do what he had to. In the meantime, he grabbed a couple of bowls and spoons himself, bringing them to the sink, wanting to help as much as possible.

Quirin bowed down and reached for the bucket with water he had left from this morning, filling the sink to start with the dishes. Once he had cleaned the first piece, he turned around and handed the wet bowl over to his son. "Here. Make sure it is dry, before placing it in the kitchen cupboard."

"I got it!" he chirped, carrying on with the task, with no complaint. They continued working, Varian soon finding himself whistling, an old habit of his when the lab got too quiet, even for him. 

Quirin listened to the melody, it was cheerful and soft, the tune motivating and perfect for the repetitive work. He almost would have started to hum with the boy, but he held back, his voice so deep that it didn't fit to the lighthearted melody, at least in his opinion. Instead, he found himself smiling, sometimes his head moved slightly with the sound, nearly not notable. With this, the work was a lot easier and two sets of hands were faster, anyway. It didn't take long until they finished. Quirin handed the last piece to the boy. "Thank you, Varian, this helped a lot." His son was really thoughtful at the moment, it felt somehow like a dream, almost too perfect. Is this the real Varian? Will it always be this way from now on? Quirin had to admit, it would be great. He had always hoped the boy could be like this. Helping him, listening to him, simply being a good child. Still, it felt a tiny bit unreal. Like something would be missing. Like the child in front of him was just a illusion, a shadow. The father fought down this feeling, silenced the doubtful thoughts in his mind. He could think about this later, not in front of the boy. "Now, to the sandwiches!" His voice was a tad too cheery for his usual self. He grabbed the basket close by. "You can set up the table, plates, cutting board and knives, I'll go get all the things we need from the storage room."

"On it!" he replied, dashing left and right to grab everything, as if he were on a timer. The table, set in no time, only servings for two people. After all, it's not like they would have been expecting someone else. Only Quirin and Varian living in this house. And according to the boy, that was enough. They didn't need anyone, other than each other. Sure, having mum around would have been ideal, but life had proven that it was anything but that. So, as far as best case scenarios go, this was quite high up. 

Varian eagerly started with the new task, almost running. The father watched him a moment, before he left, heading to the storage room. Luckily, everything they would need was available, placed with some movements into the basket. Quirin remembered how much Varian loved ham sandwiches and he wanted to surprise him. Yet the boy didn't know which food he liked or disliked and the man was curious if the boy would recognize his favourite sandwich, although he would bet the child remembered. Still, Varian's memory returned unsteadily, some things came back in an instant or persistent in Quirin's point of view, especially the alchemy stuff was hard to handle. Other things stayed stubbornly in the dark. But food should be easy, shouldn't it? The father entered the kitchen again and placed the basket on the table. "Alright, let's get started, we earned some good sandwiches, we had a busy day."

He nodded, humming. The day wasn't particularly physically tiring, but it did exhaust him emotionally. Too many things to think about, too much bad happening all at once. And he couldn't be more thankful for this break. He could only hope it got better from here on. He believed it with all his heart. Because Quirin was there, and as of now, he was the only one that he could trust, the only one he had to rely on. His guide in the darkness that he was left in, after the accident, after he lost his memories and himself. If he wanted to be again the son Quirin loved so much, he could only trust him to show him how. Even if that meant keeping a blue streak that had already caused him so much trouble. If it was part of the old Varian, it had to stay. 

Quirin picked the bread out of the basket and started to cut it. While he was preparing the sandwiches, the sweet scent of the cookies started to fill the room, faint for now, but already enough to let Quirin's stomach rumble quietly. He was hungry too, he just hadn't, noticed yet. Too much had happened that had occupied his attention. With quick movements, he topped the pieces of bread and covered it with another slice of bread. Sandwiches were easy and fast, even Varian had made them on his own, so often. Whenever he got hungry, he had helped himself, especially on days Quirin had been out for work, tasks that filled out the whole day, like working in the woods. Making such Sandwiches now, while eating together, was a new thing. Quirin just hoped he had made the food how Varian used to make it and how he liked it. "Here." He placed one of them onto the plate, in front of the child and lifted his own up to his mouth. Yet, he didn't bite into it. Instead, he eyed Varian, couldn't help but be curious what his reaction would be.

He thanked him and quickly dug in, not taking too long with looking at the food in front him, after all, he was really hungry. The first bite certainly reminded him of snack times in the past. Not details, but that they were his go-to choice. Fast, tasty and efficient. That's what he used to call them. He remembered now. He enjoyed his food in near silence, only to then look at Quirin, his father's eyes glued on him. "What's wrong?"

Quirin winced slightly at Varian's comment, he hasn't expected to be caught. "Oh." His eyes darted to his own sandwich, still untouched. "Nothing, son. Everything's alright." He let the food sink a bit before he continued. "I just wanted to see if you like it."

"It's pretty good! I like it." he commented. "What other foods did I like?" he asked, both curious and looking for an excuse to talk. It may have not been crucial information, but he still needed the smaller details. They could help him become himself even more.

"Well..." Quirin scratched his beard. "You like ham. Also bacon. Oh, and every dish which includes apples." He thought further. There were also other things the boy liked to eat, but the named things were his favourites. What the child rather disliked or neglected to eat were several sorts of greens. Would Varian remember that? Or would he simply eat it, the distaste a simple delusion of a child, something that had built up during the years? Should he- No. Quirin stopped himself. This time he would be honest, even if this cheat probably could enhance Varian's diet. Besides, the boy could be rather picky, too, when it came to things he didn't like and his stubbornness made it worse. It had been impossible to feed him something he had decided to hate. Quirin could remember vividly his fruitless attempts to feed little Varian broccoli. He sighed at this memory, yet his lips were smiling. "You did not eat enough greens. Used to. Maybe you could give them another try?"

 "I mean... I don't see how it'd be any different now..." he replied, eyeing to the corner, then back at his father, the smile on his face making him a little guilty, not wanting to let him down. He scrambled for words, before his statement seemed finished and final. "But- I guess it wouldn't hurt to give it a try!" a nervous smile formed on his face, a little forced, hoping he had not disappointed him with his answer.

This answer was enough for Quirin, a try was a good start. "Great." The smile stayed on his lips. Maybe he could convince him this time and Varian probably discovers that it tasted much better than he had experienced as small kid. "At the moment there is no chance for it, but in spring I will cook you delicious dishes with vegetables. You will see, they taste really good." He would give his best this time to introduce them in a tasty way, maybe he smuggles some bacon in it to win him over.

"Sounds good, dad." he smiled at him, this time honestly and contently. It was a pretty sweet moment, such a normal conversation after all the borderline interrogation and searching for clues. Just sitting here, talking, it was nice. He felt warm inside, as if a fire had ignited, so strong he could smell it! 'Wait...' he halted for a second, his smile slowly slipping off, his eyes widening. He launched from his chair, turning to the oven. "The cookies!"

Quirin saw the alarmed expression and how his child jumped up from the chair. A heartbeat later, he heard the reason - gasped - and he finally reacted, shooting up from the chair. After some hectic seconds, he reached the oven and grabbed for the rug, opening the oven door, quickly, while a bit of smoke streamed out of it, making him cough. Nevertheless, he grabbed for the sheet, pulling it out of the heat as fast as he could. "Oh, well." The cookies were more than well done, a little black on the edges, most probably also on the bottom. With knitted brows he looked at the failed baking attempt. He had hoped so much it would turn out great, yet he had forgotten to watch the clock, what a stupid mistake!

Varian coughed, leaning over his father's shoulder to get a better look. Pity. They were burnt a bit. He pouted quietly, a disappointed frown on his face, all while the smoke surrounded them with its bitter scent. He froze for a moment, sniffing the air a little longer. He knew this smell. He remembered it, vivid and alive as a flame. "Did I used to burn the food a lot?" he asked, wondering if he wasn't such a great cook after all.

The smoke seemed to remind Varian another bit of his past, unfortunately, it was tied to alchemy... again. Quirin, gratefully took the opportunity to prevaricate what Varian had offered. "Uhm... sometimes. But- You saw how fast this could happen!" The father put the sheet aside and turned back to Varian, an apologetic smile on his lips to ease the tension. "I guess it's time to invest in an hourglass." He hoped this wouldn't demotivate his son, it had looked like he had a lot of fun while baking. It would be great if he would keep this hobby.

He gave it a quick thought, then looking back to his father. "Sure, sounds like a logical solution." he replied, feeling a little awkward to see their attempt failing. He eyed the cookies again, slightly charred but, nothing dramatic. He reached out to take one, careful not to get burnt. He held it, looking at it. This was his first real attempt at going back to his old self, the one he wanted to be. It didn't go too great. But the time he had spent with Quirin was worth it. He glanced up at him, a smile twisting and morphing, until the boy bursted out laughing. So they had failed this once. So what. It was just the two of them to witness it. No one to laugh at them, no one to judge them, just them two of them, allowed to make mistakes and enjoy life.

Varian looked up to him, his eyes sparkling, although their try had failed and started to laugh, so full of life and full of joy, not lingering over the mistake, no, the boy rather was amused and shrugged it off. The laughter was contagious, Quirin started to chuckle and reached out, ruffling the child's hair, happily. In the end it was a wonderful time, the little mishap couldn't destroy their mood. Eventually the laughter faded and they beamed at each other, smiling broadly. Then Quirin picked up one of the cookies and investigated it on his own. They shouldn't be too bad. "We could scratch the dark parts away and try the rest, the dough looked very good."

"Could do. But what if-" he inspected the cookie a second longer, then bit into it. It was crunchy and kind of rocky. A little burnt here and there. But it didn't bother him too much, surprisingly. "That's... not too bad?" he shrugged.

A part of the cookie disappeared in Varian's mouth and an examining silence spread in the room, only a crunching could be heard. After gulping down, the boy's eyes returned to Quirin. It was obvious that the cookie wouldn't taste this good, but the father was motivated enough to also give it a try. Under the observing gaze of his son, he took a bite. In the end, it was really edible, what a luck. Good thing Varian had recognized it before they would have burnt even further. He gulped down and nodded. "They are. And I know, next time, they will be delicious, you will see."

Next time? The prospect that they could do this again, maybe in the near future, made him smile even more. He had enjoyed this whole process, Quirin's company making it even better. Suddenly, he got an idea to make this evening even better. He rushed to get a bowl and started putting a couple of cookies in it. Only stopping to look at Quirin, moments later. "Can I take a few?"

Varian beamed at Quirin, the boy apparently liked the baking after all, clearly looking forward to another try. The father enjoyed the moment, just looking at the happy face of his son, the best reward ever. Then the child's expression changed, the eyes widened a bit and a quiet gasp escaped his lips, something seemed to have crossed his mind. Varian moved, eventually putting cookies in a bowl. What had he planned? And why did he ask for permission? Quirin had raised his brows a bit. "Sure, of course, you made them, so you can decide what to do with them." The father tilted his head slightly, still curious. "What do you have in mind?"

"Just a good book by the fire while snaking on these." he replied, taking the bowl in his hands, ready to head out of the room. "What about you? What are you usually up to?" he asked, genuinely curious to know what his father's routine was like when Varian wasn't involved.

Quirin was a bit surprised. What he usually did? "Well..." He looked to the side and scratched his neck. "Most of the time, some household chores."  _'And trying to tuck you into bed at a reasonable time, when you are too focused on alchemy.'_  Quirin can't say that. Instead, he remembered an old habit of his, forgotten during the years where he had to be a single parent. "I sometimes play chess against, well, myself." He used to play over the days, sometimes weeks, just some steps in the evening. It kept his mind awake and he had something to think about, making strategies was interesting. The last years he had barely any time to do it, soon, the board was forgotten between all the tasks.

"Oh, I see. I just didn't want you to be bored, while I go read. If that's okay." he continued, still uncertain over the boundaries of the house. It's not like Quirin was overly strict, if anything, he was giving Varian all the freedom he, as a parent, should allow. If not more even. It was something the father was silently regretting, and could only now do something to undo the damage. Regardless, Varian didn't want to falter, taking careful steps to understand his father better and where he stood in this house. He knew he was loved, but he couldn't be certain what his limits were.

"Alright, you can go and read, enjoy your book." Quirin smiled softly. Reading was perfectly fine, nothing could explode or suddenly start to burn. The father took the plate with his still complete sandwich. Maybe he should call it a day and eat in front of the fireplace. "I'll be in the living room."

"Oh, perfect! That's where I was also heading!" he said excitedly. "I'll go get my book and join you in a minute!" he rushed out the room after speaking, getting his books from his room and carrying them, stacked on his hands, the bowl on top. He bit his lip as he tried to walk with his hands full, unable to really see the stairs underneath him. 

Quirin wasn't aware what Varian was about to do, the father already had reached the living room. The flames in the fireplace were low, illuminating the surroundings, with a dim light. It was cozy, but too dark for Varian's plans. After adding some logs, the fire grew again, now bright enough to be a good light for reading. The boy shouldn't exhaust his eyes. Quirin watched the flames a bit, finally taking a seat in front of the fireplace, the sandwich right beside him. A calmness started to settle in him and he closed his eyes while he felt the warmth on his skin. All he could hear was the soft crackling that soothed his ears, a sound which made him finally relax.

Varian finally, reached the living room. Luckily for both of them, there were no mishaps in the stairs, Varian slightly more careful than usual. The accident leaving a bit more wary of his surroundings. He certainly would hate it he were to hit his head again and lose all his progress. After setting up a pillow near the fire and finding a comfortable way to lie down, he started reading, the book on one hand, a cookie in the other. For all he knew, this is what happiness felt like. Feeling safe, with people who cared about him, warm and cozy, doing things he loved. It didn't take long for him to get lost in his book, sighing contently, one side of his cheek puffed, as he chewed on the treat. 

With the sound of the door, Quirin had opened his eyes, watching quietly how his son made himself comfortable, next to him. The room was filled with a pleasant silence and both needed no further words to communicate, simply exchanged gazes with each other for a moment. The boy soon opened a book and started to read, while Quirin picked up his sandwich. He took a big bite, finally some food after the long day, real food, the cookie had been an appetizer at most, not enough for his huge frame. He chewed calmly, while his gaze drifted to the flames, dancing and searching in front of him, a wild mix of bright yellow and orange. He allowed himself to space out a bit, mesmerized by the fire. Usually, he almost never did something like that, but this here was different, the atmosphere perfect and tempting to simply sit around and eat, enjoying this precious moment of free time with his son.

It didn't take him long to realise that he was a fast reader, getting through the text with a good pace, eyes gliding over the letters. Before he could realise, he had run out of pages, silently pouting as the story's cliffhanger was now going to nag him. He picked up another book from the pile, trying to get himself caught up in something else. 'Greatest scientist of the century'. Science? Was he interested in science? He could have sworn Quirin had mentioned it, but he couldn't be certain. It didn't really align with his other hobbies so far. But one could be interested in multiple fields, he thought. He read through it, the contents much more interesting than he had anticipated, even with the longer words, even with the more complicated science blabber. He read it all as if it were a storybook, a seemingly easy read. He found himself absorbed, maybe even more than in his previous book. It was oddly fascinating, his mind understanding everything quite naturally, as if it were a part of himself somehow. He didn't skip a single line, yet he had already read quite a few pages in a matter of minutes, finally letting out an amazed sound, the inventions and discoveries pulling him right into this old-new world.

Quirin looked up at the sound, turning his head to the boy. Was the book this fascinating? Maybe Varian had found one of the Flynn Rider books, his favourite book series. Since he was little, he admired his hero, so it wouldn't surprise Quirin if the child would be again, in awe while reading the stories. "Seems like an interesting book." The father turned a bit further around, adapting his pillow so he could sit comfortably, while facing Varian. Maybe he wanted to talk about it?

"It is, dad! You won't believe what's in here!" he exclaimed, getting even more absorbed in his read, a wide smile on his face as he carried on. "All the inventions and the scientific breakthroughs and brilliant minds and the way they changed the world! It's so... Fascinating!" he looked for the word at first, coming back to him only seconds later. Something about reading and learning all those things, it made him try and picture himself as them. Making a difference, discovering things none thought as possible, changing thousands of lives forever! He sighed, never looking away from his book "I wish I could be like them one day. You think I could?".

Quirin's smile fell apart for a moment, the time were his heart stopped beating too.  
_A science book? There was one of them in his room?_  A wave of hot panic rushed through him, as his heart started to beat again, now fast and upset, angry at himself. Why hasn't he  sneaked into his room and checked the books? He had been too sure they were all in the lab! What a naive thought! The father gulped, trying desperately to hold his composure. He needed to stay calm! Had Varian noticed his moment of shock? Hopefully not! He cleared his throat, before speaking, making sure his voice wouldn't waver. As he spoke, he felt already more collected than some seconds before. "Those inventors had often mentors, somebody who taught them basics. Without basics, you can't invent much. Knowledge is like a spider web, the more you know, the more you can do. Maybe, someday you can be one, but you are still young, you need to learn the theory first and who knows, maybe you'll find a mentor later." This was all Quirin could do. He couldn't bring himself to directly forbid him this dream. It was no wrong dream, not at all. But the way Varian had done the inventing had been wrong, too reckless, too chaotic. Maybe, he simply had been too young. Perhaps, his answer could buy some time, let Varian grow first, before he touched something like that, again. Probably, studying just theoretical things bored him and he let it slip. A silence spread between them and Quirin waited nervously for a reaction.

Varian, finally, looked at him, listening to his reply. Not exactly what he had expected his father to say. Not really a clear-cut 'yes', more of a vague 'maybe'. He did say he could do this in the future, but as of now, he didn't sound too keen on the idea of his son exploring this new-found hobby. He seemed insistent on Varian getting a mentor first, someone who could show him and teach him properly. But there didn't seem to be a single person in old Corona who'd be capable, let alone willing, to do that. So that would put everything on hold for way too long. And Varian, he wanted to start as soon as possible. There was so much to learn and discover and explore, he simply couldn't waste time, waiting for 'the right moment'. He sat himself up, head turned at his father, a little discouraged as he thought about his words more, the man clearly not trusting in Varian's abilities. Up until now, Quirin had been encouraging, trying to get him to believe in himself. But now, it was different? Why? "What if I started out with some easy stuff, that way I can be ahead on my knowledge, maybe I'll even impress someone enough to mentor me!" he offered, his heart beating a little faster now. Trying to argue with him wasn't exactly calming.

Varian's stubbornness started to show again, he didn't want to drop the topic. He was way too intrigued to wait. Quirin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowed,eyes closed. What a mess! "Varian, son, listen. Messing around with things you do not fully understand, is way too dangerous." He opened his eyes again, an apprehensive expression in them as he searched for his son's gaze. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"But I won't! I'll be fine! I won't do anything dangerous!" he replied, kind of hopeful, wishing that Quirin would agree after the boy reassured him. "I just want to understand all this better, it's not like I'll go set fire on anything!" he chuckled, pretty much convinced that the accusations they had throw his way were mere coincidences. Quirin had ensured him so. 

"Varian... no." Quirin's voice was calm, but dourly. He had to make sure that there wouldn't be any misunderstandings. He had messed up once, this time he didn't want to make the same mistake. The child's amused chuckling reminded him how unburdened Varian was right now. He wanted to keep it this way. So he had to be stern. "You can read and learn things this way, too. Such experiments can go quickly dangerous, if you don't have a proper base. And you have no one to guide you, yet. So, no. You have so many other hobbies, you can do those instead, don't you think? You will see, reading about science is also interesting, right? You can gain a broad knowledge with books. Just take your time."

Every word made him all the more disappointed. This time, it was an obvious and crystal clear 'no'. No more 'maybes' and 'perhapses'. Just a denial of his request. A boundary, something that Quirin hadn't set before, since the accident. It felt so odd. So far, the closest he had gotten to forbidding something, was keeping him away from that door, the room that was apparently a storage room, only for Quirin to see. He said that it was just to keep him safe, when it came to the science topic. But just how dangerous did Quirin think it could be? He wasn't going to mess with anything toxic or flammable. That'd be ridiculous! "But, don't you think there's only so much I can learn just from theory? I'll be careful! I promise! I won't mess with anything dangerous, really!" he tried to remain hopeful, not wanting to fight his father, but something inside him told him that this was a big part of him, that he shouldn't give up, that he was made to invent and experiment. It was a feeling that was stronger than any other he had gotten so far, as if it were a memory. 

"Varian, I thought I made myself clear. I will not discuss this matter. You can read the books and no more." Quirin's voice grew a bit firmer. Why didn't he listen? He had listened all those days, why not now? Why had Varian always been this stubborn at such unfitting times? Maybe a simple 'no' was not enough. Probably he was just afraid he would learn almost nothing. But there were so many books out there! With a softer tune he continued, he tried to ease the tension this topic had brought. "Look, we can visit the library and lend some more books if you like. The capital library is huge, they will have plenty of books about different topics, you will even find detailed reports of experiments. Documents like that contain all the knowledge you would gain by doing them by yourself. How does this sound? Shall we get those?"

It was a slight step forward, but Varian was not at all convince that his father wanted him to be involved in such hobbies.He couldn't tell why, for certain. All he could tell was that Quirin didn't trust him, at all. It really disheartened him. Sure, reading would help him learn, but actually trying stuff out, it sounded so much more fun! An entirely different experience. The stern voice at first, had him holding his breath a bit. The later patch up easing his tension, somehow. But not putting out his burning interest. "I mean, sure... but-"

Quirin huffed at the next try to coax him somehow. "There shouldn't be any 'but'." His brows furrowed as he bowed a bit forward, a serious expression with a little hint of worry on his face, while he looked the boy in the eyes. "Varian, son, listen to me. I just want the best for you." He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes a moment longer than a normal blink would have been, collecting himself, before he made a clear statement. "No experiments anytime soon. Is that clear?"

Varian stared at him, disappointment clear in his eyes. He understood Quirin's argument, he wanted to keep him safe, that was fine, but... He really didn't seem to trust him. Was he not careful before? Was he one to mess up easily? Maybe so, at least that one, everyone seems to agree on. But, if he had never done anything serious, why would they all say that? He looked down, clenching his hands into loose fists, trying to shrink again. It was so odd, feeling like Quirin didn't trust him, after he had done everything in his power to reassure him and told him how he was special and how much he meant to him, just the way he was. It felt so out of place, unexpected. Was Varian wrong to want to experiment? Quirin did say 'not any time soon', meaning he could allow him in the future. So maybe it was just Varian's old passions getting mixed up with memories? He didn't know. But it must have been, there was no other logical conclusion. He nodded lightly, still staring at the floor. "Yes, sir..." he replied, knowing full well that his father only had good intentions, that maybe he was the one being unreasonable. But still, his heart felt as if something tightened around it, his eyes getting hotter. Maybe it was time he went to his room, it was already late, anyway. Carefully, he got up and gathered his books, picking up his mess, before leaving. 

The reply stung in Quirin's heart, although it was the one he had wanted to get from his son. 'Yes.' He finally listened. But then the 'sir' followed, putting a distant between them. A respectful distance, but a distance, nevertheless. Just like he would stress it even further, Varian started to pick up his books, planning to retreat now. Quirin wanted to reach out so badly, hug him, but there was something like a wall between them and his body didn't move. He was not even able to speak up, his throat was sealed after this remark, his jaw tightening a bit in front of his inability to say something. His head sunk lower and he cursed himself for this frozen state. He had fallen into this too often, whenever he had arrived to a mess, whenever they had really needed to talk. But every time, he couldn't find any words, just looking at his son, until his head dropped and his eyes shifted away. Has nothing changed? Nothing at all? Apparently so, his heart feeling so heavy, like all the years before.

Small steps could be heard from upstairs, the boy pacing around as he got ready for bed, needing only about five minutes or less. Without even a 'goodnight' he laid down, hiding his face in his pillow, the rest of him trying to get lost under the blanket. As irrational as he found his own reaction, he couldn't help it. It hurt to hear his father forbid him from inventing. It's not that the father hadn't make himself clear. Varian understood. But it didn't hurt any less. How childish of him, feeling like crying just because he was told 'no'. That couldn't be all of it, right? It just couldn't. He has been told 'no' before, this morning even with the heavier logs, and yet, he didn't feel like this. Yes, he didn't appreciate being underestimated, but not to the point where he'd cry about it. No, this was something else. Something familiar. And that feeling was what hurt him so much. The way he spoke, the way he looked at him, even the way he remained cold and unmovable, like stone. It all came back to mind. Many, _many_  times before. He couldn't recall what had happened. But he could see it clearly. His father looking at him with the same disappointed eyes, turning away as Varian reached out to him, his hands covered with black gloves, then the man walked away. He may have not been aware, deep asleep as he recalled those moments, but he was sobbing, silently as he could, as if he had tried to hide it again, in the past. This piece coming back to stay. 

Quirin eventually, also retreated to his bed, nothing holding him in the living room, anymore. With a sigh, he pulled the blanket up to his chest. Had he done something wrong? Should he have answered something different? The scene played again in front of his eyes, but he still felt the same. Varian was not ready to do alchemy again. The curious eyes of his son came back to his mind, the blue eyes sparkling with interest. Well, maybe  _Quirin_  wasn't ready for it. But whatever it was, forbidding this dangerous hobby seemed the right thing. The boy was hungry for knowledge, but he could also learn with the notes of others. It would be safer for the child and it would be better for the village, too. This thoughts eased his mind, it was the right thing, after all. Slowly he relaxed and drifted away, eventually falling asleep.

'Not again, Varian.'   
The phrase made him open his eyes, gasping. He was awake again, in his pitch-dark room. It was the dead of night, still, no morning in the horizon. He caught himself trembling. His eyes burning and his cheeks cold. Had he been crying? Apparently so. He wiped his eyes, processing slowly all that he had seen. He couldn't have just fabricated so much disappointment, by himself, could he? It felt so real. Eerie in its authenticity. He couldn't have imagined it all... Finally, he got off his bed, and with careful steps, he headed downstairs. The house was cold and empty in the darkness, the earlier life of it was now missing, somewhere in time. It was almost as if he walked in a different castle, a sleeping dragon snoring away and Varian sneaking into the beast's treasury. He stood in front of the door, pulling down the handle carefully, the metal freezing his hands. Nothing happened. It was locked for good. But that wouldn't be enough to stop him. He rushed to his room, silent like a shadow and grabbed a metal hanger from his wardrobe. After twisting the metal around, he jammed it into the keyhole. A turn or two later, a clicking was heard, the heavy door cracking open with a creaking noise. He could only hope he could open it just enough to pass, without making too much noise.   
The room was freezing cold, dark and slightly humid, like a cave. He rubbed his upper arms, a shiver leaving him. The creepy shadows that were cast everywhere, didn't help either. There were tables and bookshelves and a million other structures. Sharp and ungraceful edges and broken-looking pieces. Machinery with unknown function and purpose, tools and vases with ingredients and beakers with mystery contents. His stomach clenched as he walked deeper into the room. The supposed storage room. But what exactly was he storing in here? The nightly darkness didn't shed any light to that question. 

He finally reached a lamp, twisting the small valve and an amber light igniting right after. Now, he could see better. A swiping look over the room later, he could start to understand a little better. Everywhere he looked, he got the feeling he had seen this place before, this place filled with machines and cogs and tools and chemicals-... Chemicals. He picked up one of the vials, reluctantly. These were just like the ones he had drawn the other day. The stand, the desk, the mess on the the wooden surface. It was... science? But, Varian wasn't involved with science before, was he? And it couldn't be Quirin's hobby, because he would have offered to assist him... And it couldn't be his mother's either. She has been gone for too long... 

So... What was the meaning of this? He looked around him once more, feeling more lost than ever, as if this place wasn't a part of his house, but a portal to a different dimension. Yet it felt like home. Calling him to stay, to explore more, to be comfortable in these walls, again.   
But it didn't last too long. A noise was heard, or at least his ears insisted so, making him turn his head in alarm, nearly dropping the vial. He put it away, leaving as if he had never been there. He closed the door behind him and rushed to his bed, hiding under the covers, pretending to be asleep, until an hour or so later, he truly drifted into slumber, again. He was shaken, but the tiredness won. He could worry about this in the morning, as well. But not in front of Quirin... 

Quirin didn't notice any of it. Too deep was his sleep this time. He stayed dreamless, at least he couldn't remember one. The moment his eyes fluttered open, he couldn't recall any. The morning sun was about to rise, calling him out of the warm bed. He rolled over to the side, slowly shoving his feet out of the blanket. Once he left the warmth, he became more awake, finally pushing himself upwards with a little groan. It was still early, but he better get started. The castle has cooled down over night and so the living room would be freezing. After a little stretch, he slipped in his boots. Now he was ready to start the day! With careful steps, he walked quietly through the hallway, careful to not awaken the child. They had parted ways in no good terms, last evening, the memory making the man stop for a second, his gaze lingering onto the door of the boy's bedroom. Would Varian still be angry, after he woke up? He hoped so much the boy's temper would have cooled down eventually, probably a good amount of sleep would fix the problem. That's all Quirin hoped for, starting the new day without any fights. He sneaked downstairs and into the living room, to clean up the ashes, before a new fire could be lit. These moves were routine, already deeply stored in his mind, he could do this even while being half asleep. His gaze drifted to the lab door, the room behind still nagging on his nerves. He stared some seconds at the wood, like it would vanish this way. In the end, he huffed and looked away. He should not bother. The door was locked, the room shut away for a long time, probably forever. His son would not take a step inside, anytime soon, wouldn't repeat his mistakes and cause trouble. Now, he concentrated again on the fire, it was soon lit, starting to fill the room with warmth. Next step would be the breakfast, an essential meal of the day. Once this was done, he could think about waking his son.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sledging accident, Varian lost his memory, completely.  
> When Quirin found him like this, it became clear that it wouldn't be an easy task to awaken his memories again, that is if the boy really should remember everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction is a collaboration with nyxglitch on tumblr (https://nyxglitch.tumblr.com/)! It is an rp, that's why the passages will switch the points of view.
> 
> warning: minor animal injury

 

Varian's eyes opened tiredly, the midnight interval having drained him more than he expected. He may have been asleep, but his mind was restless. Questions running through his head at lightning speed. Quirin wasn't hiding anything from him, he wouldn't! Would he? Why? Quirin clearly wanted Varian to remember himself, he had shown him that. But... If that was the case, what was the meaning behind the hidden room? The forbidden door that Quirin had tried to keep sealed away from Varian. Did all storage rooms look like this and he was overthinking it? But what about the chemicals? What use would Quirin have for them? If his mother was interested in science, Quirin would have told him! He would... The idea of his father keeping secrets from him, hiding parts of himself, he couldn't stomach it. It felt so... unfair. Yeah, that was the right word. If Quirin loved him just the way he was, just like he said himself, why would he keep such a thing from him? Could it be? Were the village kids right? Was he really a disappointment to his father? He couldn't tell, and he certainly didn't want to make assumptions that they could be right. He got off bed, unable to continue sleeping. But then, he wasn't sure if he should go downstairs, to face Quirin. What if the father didn't want to see him? He couldn't know for sure how Quirin's mood would be after a fight, maybe the man still wanted to be left alone. Maybe Varian wasn't ready to face him. One thing was for sure though, the subject of experimenting was not one he should bring up again any time soon. Or the room beyond the door. Or the way he felt after he left the living room, yesterday night. None of it was to be spoken of again.

Quirin had prepared everything for the breakfast, he had even lingered over it, not sure when Varian would come downstairs. But now, he has finished and the sun was already out, golden rays of sunlight pouring through the window. The last days, the child had come down on his own, he had been here already at this time. But now, he was nowhere in sight, although he had gone to bed at a normal time. Varian was most probably awake. Was he still upset, hiding in his room while he was pondering over the argument? The father had leaned onto the kitchen worktop, now he pushed himself away with a soft sigh. He should better look upstairs, trying to find out if his assumptions were true. It hasn't been his intention to drive a wedge between them. Not in the slightest. And if he had, the father was determined to make up for it again. He had hoped for a better life for both, not ending up with the same distance like before. Quirin had reached the door eventually, now carefully knocking on it. "Varian? Are you in there?"

He had stood around a little longer than he expected, thinking still. When his father's voice interrupted him, he snapped back in reality, out of the 'what ifs' and possibilities. His tone was calm, almost worried. Much more like the Quirin he had gotten to know the past few days, unlike the cold man that spoke to him yesterday night. He wasn't sure if the man was sorry. He sure sounded like he was. Well, he had been silent and invisible for way too long. It was time he showed up, to raise less suspicion, even though the boy wasn't sure if he could face him after breaking into the forbidden storage room. What if he had even come up here to ask about that?! What if he knew?! No, Varian couldn't break now, he had to hide it. He took in a deep breath and exhaled, finally opening the door, half-way, timidly. "Yes, dad? Everything okay?" he asked, trying to look innocent. It's not like he had committed a crime, or at least he hoped he hadn't. But there was still some guilt that wouldn't stop biting at his neck.

"Ah, Varian. You are already awake. Do you want to have breakfast?" Quirin was glad the boy had opened the door, although it was just a bit. So the father was right, Varian was still not over the fight, not as upbeat as the last days. He stepped a bit away, giving the boy more space, knowing his huge form in the door frame could be intimidating in such a situation. "I prepared it already, you could come downstairs anytime." Quirin felt a bit lost in this awkward situation, usually he let the boy sulk until he calmed down on his own. Yet he had the feeling he could lose him again if he would do this now, falling into the old pattern without gaining anything. He wanted to guide the child better, so here he was, trying his best.

He didn't sound angry any more. 'That's good.' he thought, relieved that he didn't have anything to confront, buying himself time. It calmed him a little, not seeing the disappointment in his eyes anymore. He cracked the door open a little more, no longer having to shield himself with it. "Oh... I... I'll be there." he replied, trying to sound normal, as if he hadn't sneaked into that room while he was asleep. His father's tone may have become kinder and warmer again, not completely still, but Varian couldn't be certain how to act now. Should he start with small-talk? A proper good morning? A hug? An apology? What?

Quirin saw how Varian opened the door further, a tiny step in his direction. The father smiled softly at the boy's words, the child wanted to join at breakfast, no longer hiding in his room. He hasn't demanded any further answers yet and also hasn't tried to convince him again. Quirin hoped it would stay this way. The boy hasn't moved yet, Varian looked a bit insecure while he remained in the door. Maybe the child wanted to wait until he would move away fist, needing still a bit of distance after the incident yesterday. In this case he should better leave now, giving him space instead of upholding this awkward situation any longer. Quirin nodded slightly and turned around, his soft gaze lingering a moment longer at his child, before he looked forwards, heading to the staircase.

Was that a signal to follow him? It might have been. At least, Varian saw it this way. He didn't speak at all, just quietly followed, all while the arguments in his head continued. Quirin couldn't know about yesterday night. At best, he'd be really disappointed and saddened by Varian's defiance. He couldn't let him know. If anything, it'd be better looking for a different subject to think of, to distract himself too and not get caught off guard. He couldn't afford for the truth to come out now.

Varian remained silent. It felt weird, awkward, out of place. It was like the first days Varian had awoken after the accident, the child was wary and way too quiet, waiting for Quirin to take the initiative. The father tried to deal with it and walked ahead, reaching the kitchen without any talk. Once he was in the room, he took a seat on the chair, placing both elbows on the table. It was really time to start talking, anything, just to break this awful silence. He looked over to the boy as he asked the most simple question that appeared in his mind. "Have you slept well?"

While he was trying to come up with a subject to divert from yesterday night, Quirin spoke, catching him off guard, the question almost feeling like an interrogation. Did Quirin already catch up to him!? He froze immediately, looking at him, a bit stunned and spoke without thinking, rushed and louder than necessary. "What are we gonna do today?!"

Varian looked a second like a shy deer which had spotted the hunter right in front of it. Then he burst out with another question, ignoring Quirin's attempt to start a conversation completely. The father blinked in surprise and knitted his brow. What was wrong with his question? Why didn't Varian give him an answer and was suddenly so nervous? Has anything happened during the night? It all was quite suspicious, but the father decided to answer the child's question first. "I thought about doing more work in the village. I wanted to show you the stables, so you could learn about which animals we have here and how to feed them during winter time. The livestock is very important for us, we can't afford to lose them during the cold months." As far as Quirin had experienced it the village work had been a good thing for the kid. Varian could help again and learn important things and hopefully, he would forget about their argument yesterday, simply accepting the decision Quirin had made.

"Ah-... Well... I see." he replied, nodding and avoiding his father's direction, still stiff and visibly anxious. More work outside. Great, as if he last three outdoor escapades haven't been complete disasters. First waking up in the snow with no memory, then meeting 'his friends' and yesterday didn't go all that great either, too much gossip and dirty looks thrown in his direction. He was ready to deny the invitation. But then he remembered, it wasn't an invite. His father would most likely insist that Varian joined him. Either because he liked his son's company, or because he needed him to learn a few things as the future leader. A combination of both was the most likely scenario. Besides, he would only look more suspicious to refuse. Maybe, just maybe, Quirin also wanted to keep an eye on him, ensuring that the locked room was and will remain, out of his reach. "And, when are we planning to go?" he replied, not protesting to join him. The storage room would be there later today as well, after all.

This time, Quirin responded with a counter question. "Do you need any time after the breakfast?" Varian still was so defensive, asking him like he had to endure a schedule his father urged him to align with. Had the child planned anything for himself? The man turned a bit more to Varian, hoping to finally get eye contact. He didn't want to keep this distance, he wanted the curious and happy boy back, the child he had apparently scared away yesterday. But how could he reach him? Did his plans enlarge the distance further? But what else should he do? The father's gaze searched for signs. If Varian would at least look at him!

"No, I don't really have anything planned for today." he admitted. Damn, did his routine look boring, now that he thought about it. Sure, he had a lot of hobbies, but one could only read and draw and bake for so long before they became sick of it. Or before they seeked new things to occupy time with. Maybe going with him was going to help make the day less stale too. It was better worth his while than staying alone again, at least so he thought. Even if he were to sneak back there while Quirin was gone, he couldn't tell for sure when the man would be back. He could put his curiosity to rest for now, he was sure. He sat down at the table, at last, his shoulders relaxing and his hands reached out for the food, serving himself a generous portion.

Quirin watched Varian sit down. The answer hasn't helped him much. The boy's face looked still unhappy, but at least his appetite wasn't impaired. The father also put a large portion on his plate. "Fine. In this case we could start right after the breakfast. The animals are certainly already hungry, so we shouldn't let them wait for too long." He dug in, enjoying at least the meal. Would Varian open up again when he was with the animals? Hopefully. Quirin looked again over to the child, trying to see if his mood already has changed while eating.

He simply nodded, keeping his eyes on his plate, eating without further comments. There wasn't anything for him to add or object to anyway. 'Just eat quietly and hope he doesn't notice anything.' he told himself, still jumpy and alert. This was going to be a difficult day if this continued. But he couldn't let Quirin know. Not until he felt calm enough to tell him the truth. Right now, he was shaking like a leaf, he'd falter too much. He couldn't let that happen.

Varian kept his head low, avoiding Quirin at any cost. How should he break the ice? The father took another bite and chewed in thoughts. Then, an idea crossed his mind and he stood up, walking over to the kitchen cupboard. After shoving around some glass jars, he found the right one, filled with some candies he brought from the capital. Varian didn't get them often, it was more like a special treat to good occasions. A smile appeared on Quirin's face as he recalled the happy eyes of his young child. Varian had held up his hands every time, waiting in anticipation for Quirin to put the treat in his palms, almost in a ceremonial manner. Maybe this hasn't changed. Maybe the boy brightens up, just like before the accident, when he got one. "Varian." Quirin picked up a candy and walked back to his son, placing it on the table right before the child. "This is a candy you always liked. Yesterday you helped me so much and today you want to help, too. Thank you son." He gently squeezed the boy's shoulder for a moment before he sat down again, calm on the outside, but his eyes naturally returned to Varian, watching if he would pick up the treat.

Blue eyes followed him, spying on him, until he mentioned his name, the father clearly seeking his attention. He gulped down his mouthful and watched him, following Quirin and then the candy, bright red and a little see-through, making it glow in the light. He was told they were his favourites. But it felt like a random reminder. Did he want to cheer him up? Was that an apology for yesterday's argument? He said it was for his work yesterday. The pat on the shoulder also helped ease his tension further, but did ignite his guilt even more, suddenly no longer hungry. He bowed his head further, as if trying to hide, biting his lip as his eyes darted all over the place, finally stopping at the candy. This was bad, very very bad. He felt almost as if he'd start sweating, too much pressure to keep up the lie and not make his father sad by refusing. He took it in his fingertips and looked at it a little, before eating it. He checked Quirin, to see what his reaction would be. In the meantime, the flavour returned in his mind, sweet and nostalgic. It was enough to snap him out of his spiral of guilt, focusing on the taste instead. A few moments later, he replied "Thanks, dad.", looking at him a little cautiously.

Varian looked nervous, even with the candy in front of him. He seemed to struggle with an internal fight and it took him a while until he reached out and put the treat into his mouth. The father held his breath, searching for the reactions he had usually seen. But he didn't get them, no happy sparkling blue eyes looked at him. Varian was still reserved, yet he has turned his head to him and gave him a polite thanks. It was not what the father had hoped, but it was better than nothing and he could have sworn that Varian seemed to remember the taste. Quirin replied with a small smile. "You have earned it, son. You did a great job yesterday." He took the last bite of his breakfast and gulped it down. "Are you ready for a new task?" He tried to sound motivating, creating a better atmosphere somehow. Right now, it felt like the mornings after Varian had blown up the lab again. Guilt was lingering in the air and Quirin couldn't stand it. A simple argument shouldn't destroy all the work he had done to enhance their relationship!

"Yeah, I just need to change and I'll be ready!" he replied, trying to focus on the new schedule instead. He got up, almost hurrying to get out the room, gone before Quirin could object. Once he was alone, he took a moment to breathe. Should he tell Quirin about yesterday? Would it be worth it? He couldn't just stay quiet forever, he needed to know. Did he even know what the room was before he lost his memory? Was this the first time he found it? And why did Quirin keep chemicals and machines in there? What use did he have for them? He sighed, finally accepting to put it to rest. For the time being at least. He could try seek answers later, no matter how much the questions nagged him. He had to trust his father. Otherwise, he'd be as lost as he was the first day after the accident. He couldn't afford that, not when he was so close to being someone again. As he got dressed, he repeated in his mind, to drive away the doubts. 'My name is Varian, my father is Quirin, leader of old Corona where we live. I have no friends, but that's okay because I'm good in a lot of other things.'. He then paused, stopping for a moment. 'I trust my dad. He loves me and he wouldn't lie to me. He is the only person who cares about me.' he continued, looking over to his room's door. 'I got to trust him...'

Quirin saw him leave. With quick steps, the boy rushed away. Apparently the motivation has worked! The father stood up and cleaned up the table, he was already fully dressed and washed, so he just had to wait. The work yesterday had been probably a bit boring for the child, but today it would be different, Quirin was sure. Varian had liked animals in his past, so letting him feed them, couldn't be a bad idea, could it? Quirin was positive that he would enjoy it. The father walked into the hallway, reaching for the winter clothes, as he saw Varian on his way downstairs. "Alright. Let's go." He held the boy's cloak and cape out, waiting for Varian to take it.

He grabbed it and put it on, without any specific emotion in his movement. No resentment or anger or sadness or even excitement. Just, very blandly doing the task for the sake of finishing it. It was difficult, to put on this mask. Yet, he somehow managed it. It wasn't the first time Varian had done this, concealing his emotions. It was fairly standard for his old self to go about his day with a smile or even a blank expression, while he bottled up his worries and troubles, as if they were insignificant and none of Quirin's concern. It wasn't unusual for a bruise or torn shirt to be blamed on a mere lab accident, while that explanation couldn't be further from the truth. There was a reason why Varian preferred his own company, after all. Regardless, the boy couldn't possibly know this now. He simply played along, almost by instinct. It was difficult, but he knew what to do. He followed without a word, hoping his silence would be what Quirin wanted from him at the moment.

The silence made Quirin rather worried. He had thought the candy and his words could cheer Varian up, but the boy was as distant as before, his attempts had been fruitless. The father felt so lost, slowly he didn't know anymore what to do. He pressed his lips together and continued, now he had to rely on the task itself to change the atmosphere. As they stepped outside, the sky was clouded and the sun hid behind a thick grey blanket. It would soon snow again, this was sure. Quirin had looked up with a frown in his face, not even the weather helped to enhance their mood and it had been so nice in the early morning hours! But the sun was gone now, leaving them in a greyish daylight. He sighed quietly and stepped forward, taking the lead on their way to the village.

Varian remained silent, invisible, a shadow that hid with Quirin's. He made no sound, no big movements, just enough to keep up. Even his hood was up, concealing his head and tucking his hair away neatly. Last thing he needed right now, was for someone to point a finger at him. And he really didn't need that right now. Quirin didn't need that, ever. So much had happened to keep Quirin busy with his son, maybe more than the man would like. It really made him wonder. Was Varian always such a burden? And now, he was also a liar. He really had messed up this time. And he certainly didn't know how to fix it. How to fix himself.

It was almost like Quirin would walk on his own. Varian did his best to hide away, even from his own father. Quirin endured it, kept quiet too. He had tried so much already and being pushy wouldn't help in the end either, he supposed. If Varian needed some time in silence, he should get it. As they reached the first houses, it became clear that he wouldn't have to worry about the villagers too, today it wasn't very busy. Most people would stay in the house, aware the weather would change soon. It was a day to do the things which could be done at home. But Quirin had other plans, the walls of their home hadn't helped the child to calm down again. They only would remind him on the argument and these hidden memories. The stables, on the other hand, would keeping him busy. They reached the building, soon, and Quirin shoved the door open. "Here we are." His gaze laid on Varian, an invitation for the child to step in.

On his silent path, he spotted something running through the snow. Upon further inspection, it was fluffy and chubby, with a bushy, ringed tail, its face shoved into a wooden box. Once it moved out, it had an apple of its mouth, little eyes staring at Varian behind a dark mask. Before Varian could react to him, he was gone, hopping off into the snowy distance, away from Varian's direction. He cracked a small smile, the critter adorable in his mischief. It was a pleasant break from his father marching in front of him. At last, they arrived, Quirin making way for him to step in first. And so he did.

Quirin followed and closed the door behind him. The familiar atmosphere of the stable surrounded them now, it was almost quiet, only the soft breathing of the animals could be heard, as well as some movements and the rustling of the straw on the ground. The air was a bit dusty and filled with the scent of the different animals. They did not have a huge livestock, but enough for the amount of villagers in Old Corona. In the different barn compartments, there were some goats and sheep, they also had chickens and some pigs, even a couple of cows. Their five horses were their most valuable property, they needed them for the fieldwork and the carts, without them they wouldn't be able to bring in the harvest and send the rent in form of foods, to the king. "Alright, these are the stables. The animals are important for us, so we take good care of them." Quirin stepped forward and stroked one of the cows on the forehead. "Their surrounding should be clean, so we clear the dung out and give them new straw every day, as well as feeding and watering them. When you come here, first thing to check is, if there are any ill or wounded animals, before you go on with the regular work." The father made a short pause and turned back to his son. "Okay Varian, this is your first task. Are all animals well in here?"

Varian was a little spaced out, still troubled by thoughts. So when Quirin gave him the first task, he was caught a little off guard, listening, but out of focus. "Uh-..." he uttered, now more alert, eyes darting all over the place, looking nervously as if he was supposed to hurry. Quirin was an unbelievably patient man, but Varian couldn't possibly know that yet. He wasn't sure if the father was over the argument himself and was simply really good at hiding it. He wasn't sure that if he faltered, Quirin wouldn't shoot another disappointed look his way. It felt horrible, the way he looked at him yesterday. He didn't want that, ever again. The more seconds he took, however, the more nervous he became. The guilt of his discovery last night, not helping ease the knots in his stomach. "Um... Yes- Wait- No! ... Yes?" he said, changing his answer as he tried to read Quirin's expression. Too afraid to make a mistake.

Quirin saw Varian's eyes darting around, trying desperately to scan everything, but seeing nothing in the end, rushing to give his father an answer. The man chuckled softly and knelt down, placing a hand on the child's shoulder. "Varian, breath in." He paused a bit, while he gave the child a moment to do so. "You don't need to be nervous. Take your time with the answer. Look around." He took away the hood and stoked over the black hair. "And calm down. Animals don't like it when someone is nervous. They sense it and get nervous, too." The cow in the background huffed a bit, shaking her head and neck as she eyed both humans.

Admittedly, the contact helped a lot more than Quirin could possibly know. The chuckling wasn't mocking, and no longer having to look up at this towering man, their eye levels equal, also helped him feel less uncomfortable, the father trying to show him that everything was fine. He even took off his hood and ruffled his hair, remembering how he had comforted him after he tried to cut the streak off. He took in a deep breath, relaxing and looking into Quirin's eyes, reading his expression further. No suspicion or anger, just his father, his beloved father from all the previous days. He was told to take his time, that his own stress would not only affect himself. He didn't mean to cause a panic. He simply nodded, finally composed again, breathing out a quiet 'okay'. With this new mindset, he scanned his surroundings more carefully, looking if anything seemed off. "I think they are fine." he replied, less fear to make a mistake now, even though he was positive his answer was correct.

Now Varian was way calmer, finally, the boy started to observe his surrounding better. Quirin watched him gladly, nodding after the answer. "Yes, they are all alright." A goat craned it's neck and looked over the wooden door, bleated at them loudly, like it wanted to tell them to hurry up. "And hungry." Quirin smiled and raised to his feet. "We have stored the hay in the upper level." The man walked over to a ladder, gesturing his son to follow him. "Let's throw a bit down." Quirin climbed up the wooden rungs, more swiftly than his huge frame would make one expect. He vanished through a hatch, but returned a moment later, looking down at the lower level to see if Varian would follow him.

After Varian gave affirmation, he followed Quirin, not a big fan of the ladder, but he didn't make a fuss, simply refusing to look down, focusing on the goal. It felt like an eternity, but he was up in a less than a minute. He didn't dare look at how high they were, not while he didn't need to.

"Careful." Quirin supported the boy, holding him by the upper arms as the child climbed through the hatch. Once Varian had both feet on the ground, the father let go. "Good." He grabbed one of the pitchforks and handed it to the boy, then he took one for himself. The upper level was filled with huge piles of hay and straw, like small hills on the wooden planks. Quirin walked a bit forward to another, closed hatch and opened it. "This one is always closed, we only open it to throw the hay down. Make sure to close it afterwards and be careful while walking here, someone might have forgotten to close it. I don't want you to fall." Then he turned around and picked up a fork full of hay, shoveling it over to the hole and let it fall down. The air started to fill with dust, the scent of hay grew more intense. Quirin didn't bother, he carried on and nodded to the boy, signalling to help him.

Varian held the pitchfork, truly underestimating its weight, or rather, his own strength. The tool was obviously not designed for him, unlike Quirin who seemed to have absolutely no issues with handling it. Varian didn't give up, however. He just needed to find the right way to shift the weight and he could get it done fine. He could still be helpful! With a new stubbornness, he mirrored Quirin's movements, down to the smallest turn. Not as graceful, of course, but it got the job done, for sure. He finally stopped, leaning onto the pitchfork and panting, tired from lifting all that weight.

Quirin stopped as he saw Varian pause. His gaze softened, the boy gave his best, even if he was not used to the work. The man let a last bit of hay fall down, before he stepped closer to Varian. "Well done, son." He took the other pitchfork too and brought them back to their place, leaning them against a timber. A checking gaze showed him that the boy was a bit exhausted, no good thing to climb down a ladder. Instead of continuing, he walked over to the hay and took, with a small and relieved sigh, a seat on the soft material. "Time for a small break." Varian had worked well so far, the father didn't want to overexert him, the child's breath still too fast.

He smiled at him at the praise, following him on the hay, moments later. He sat down with a new thud, still catching his breath a little, sighing in relief to be able to stop now. It was a simple task, yet it had tired him out easily. He didn't think of himself as the athletic type, but no stamina at all? "Did I always... get tired.. this easily?" he asked in between breaths.

"Well..." Quirin reached out and picked some hay out of the black streaks. "Reading and drawing isn't much of a exercise. But don't worry, the more you do such things, like today, the stronger you will get. And you are still a kid, not fully grown, of course this work tires you more than me." Quirin had been aware of this, as he had decided to take Varian with him. They didn't have to hurry, so they could easily adapt the pace at Varian's condition.

Sounded reasonable enough. Varian just lied down on his back, the hay comfortable enough to rest on for a couple of minutes. "What else do we have to do next?" he asked, finally no longer panting. He hoped that there wouldn't be too much work like this, left. At least asking for less demanding tasks. Anything more difficult or heavier than the hay and he'd be out of energy for the rest of the day. And they had only started!

The work was very far from done, the tasks not getting easier in any way. The father hadn't noticed that Varian already had enough, hoping for an end. Instead, he listed the things they would do next, he was not the slightest bit exhausted. "We need to bring the hay to the animals, spreading it in the different barn compartments. After that, we will bring them water. The pigs and chickens need different food, we will get it from another place, I'll show you."

He whined under his breath, but didn't object. He pushed himself up, tiredly and tried to wake up again, the hay having made him rather dozy. 'Come on, Varian... Dad is right here, we can't get tired so easily, we have to help!' he told himself, trying to regain his determination. Quirin counted on him to be a helping hand today. He couldn't let him down! "Alright, I'm ready."

Quirin pushed himself up and helped Varian too. "Good. Let's continue, then." He climbed down the ladder first and waited close by it, as he reached the lower level. Varian was not used to taking a ladder, so the father was better cautious. His gaze lay on his son, his hands placed loosely on the rungs, ready to catch the boy if he would fall.

Varian went to follow him, almost forgetting they were elevated high off the ground. So as soon as he remembered, a vertigo overtook him. He shied away from the ledge and took a moment to breath. All the while, he mumbled words of encouragement and motivational messages to himself. With careful steps, he went slowly down the ladder, shaking all over. 'You can do it, Varian, just one step at a time. One step at-'. His thoughts were cut short with a short shriek, however. The boy losing his footing and slipping down.

The cry made Quirin flinch, his eyes were glued on the boy and, with a gasp, his arms shot upwards. It was not hard for him to catch his son, the boy landed with a thud in his safe grip. The small frame was not very heavy for Quirin too, yet his heart beat furiously and his knees felt so weak, while his mind processed the last seconds. His son has fallen down. He has fallen. But now he was safe, in his arms. The father pressed him gently closer, not ready to let go yet. Not yet. His heart slowly calmed down and finally he spoke up, his voice still carrying a slight worry. "Are you alright? You are not hurt?"

To his relief, he was caught in time. He knew he could trust Quirin after all. But then something happened, something that shook him a little more than the fall. Instead of scolding him or telling him to be careful, Quirin was acting a little strange. As if Varian had just fallen off a tower and Quirin caught him in the nick of time. The way he held him, close to himself for a long moment, and how he even felt his heartbeat, wild and restless at first, almost like his own when he was locked in the shed. He was... afraid? That terrified of anything happening to him? It was just a slip-up, he hadn't broken anything. He was fine, so what was with this reaction? "Dad, I'm fine. Calm down..." he replied, perplexed with this scene. Did that fall really warrant that reaction? Or was it only Quirin who would possibly react this way?

"Good. This is good." Quirin let him eventually down. He looked away quickly, Varian's gaze was confused and observing, too insistent to handle right now. The father had feared for his son's life already way too often, his pulse had shot up so many times, whenever he saw fire, or dark smoke or an explosion threw huge boulders and metal pieces through the air. Seeing his boy now falling, had him alarmed the same way, but he couldn't tell Varian, although his blue eyes looked like he wanted to know. The child was safe now and this was what counted in the end. Quirin better get himself together quickly. He rubbed his neck and looked over to the wall, another pair of pitchforks leaning there. "So, we can continue?" He reached out for them and handed the tool over. "Maybe you feed the goats first, one of them sounded very hungry." He tried to sound funny, to ease the situation and covering his former panic a bit.

And now, Quirin was acting like this never happened. Varian couldn't help but raise a brow at him. It confused him. Had he not seen that he overreacted? Was he being this protective due to the accident? That seemed plausible enough. After all, it's be a huge inconvenience for him to simply lose his memories again, after all their work to get him to remember this much. And he still had blank spaces that needed filling in. He let it slip, simply taking the pitchfork and moved on his work, waiting first to observe how Quirin would it, so he could copy him.

The father was relieved Varian didn't ask him directly and now moved with him. The hay has landed in the path between the barn compartments, now it has to be brought to the animals. Quirin took a large amount on the fork and heaved it over to the trough of the cows. The cows already had expected to get something, they had crowded there, now greedily digging in with their tongues to get as much as possible, before the trough would be empty, totally unaware of the fact that Quirin was about to put there even more hay. After some forkfuls, he fed the sheep too and he would do the same with the horses. He knew that the work was hard, so he tried to take over the major part of it. Luckily, he was naturally faster too, so he could do this without letting Varian know.

Varian let out a stubborn huff after observing Quirin, preparing himself to follow his father's example. He lifted the pitchfork, clumsily grabbing some hay, some chunks falling off, already. With an ungraceful motion, he lifted the pitchfork over to the goats, almost launching it, the hay landing anywhere but where it was supposed to. 'Well, not too shabby for a first try.' he told himself, not wanting to lose his motivation, just yet. He gave it another try, this time, much more controlled, actually aiming for the feeder. If only there was an easier way to get this done. Like a machine that you load with hay and it puts it in the trough for you, practically cutting the work in half. He got lost in his daydreaming while he got the job done, not realising how he got so tired by the end of it, leaning on a wooden pylon to catch his breath.

They finished soon, Quirin was a very quick worker, after all, and Varian's support, also helped a bit. The father was so lost in the task, that he didn't noticed how drained out Varian already was, the boy had moved so determined during the work, that it wasn't too obvious. By the time Quirin returned with three buckets, the boy already left his makeshift crutch and stood on his own. "Now that they are fed, they need water too." He handed one of the buckets to the child. "There is a water trough outside, which is constantly filled by a well, we get the water from there." The father looked, now, a bit more serious. "The water is cold, so be careful and don't get soaked. And such a bucket gets heavy, don't fill it completely." he advised. After these words, he walked forward, guiding the way outside to the well. It was not this far away, a trough made out of stone. Water ran out of a wooden pipe, fed by a well, running into the basin. "Here we are." Quirin took Varian's bucket and filled it half, before he handed it back to him. "And don't exhaust yourself, too much. If you need a break, take one. And if it gets too straining, you can stop, too. I appreciate your help, son. But take it easy." he spoke a bit more softly this time, concern clear in his words. Quirin wasn't sure how much Varian could take. Other kids in his age helped also this much, but Varian has no routine in it, he was not this untiring either, thanks to his habit to stay most of the time in the castle. But half a bucket should be alright, shouldn't it? Quirin filled his two buckets, full and walked back to the stables. So far, it had worked very well and the man was glad about it.

The boy watched how easily his father carried the two buckets, all while his own had stayed on the floor, ever since Quirin handed it to him. He felt almost embarrassed. His father had no issue with his buckets, and yet, Varian struggled to lift it, let alone carry it. He could only hope Quirin wouldn't see him, the man way ahead of him. He had already told him that if he needed a break, he should say so. He appreciated the thought, even though part of him took it as an insult. Even he saw him as weak? He hadn't exactly managed to prove the opposite back at the stable, still a little drained from the earlier work. No, he could still change it. He was strong! And worthy of being leader some day! He would show them! A half filled bucket of water shouldn't be an obstacle! He sucked in a breath and strode forward, stubbornly carrying the bucket to his destination. With quite a bit of difficulty, he finally made it, emptying the water in the trough. It wasn't much. Varian grumbled at the sight. He run outside, back to the well, only now realising this would take several trips. As he run, he felt lighter, probably due to the empty bucket. He filled it up, more this time to cut work time. He carried it, all his will into it. But only a few steps later, his vision filled with static, his knee buckled and soon hit the snow.

Quirin walked between the well and the stable, much faster than the boy, passing him a few times. The father didn't mind, Varian could take as much time as he needed. The man had just finished refilling his buckets again, as the child returned to get some water for the second time. Quirin smiled at him, the boy even running, when his bucket was empty. "Take your time." it was a gentle reminder for the child to not overdo it. The father took his buckets and was on his way back, not knowing that Varian was about to do the exact opposite. Quirin was already out of sight, as the boy crashed down into the snow.

But still, the child was not alone. Black beady eyes looked from the distance, a black nose twitched, interested. The animal had watched them a bit, the two were blocking the well he had wanted to visit. He had waited all this time, still thirsty, but there hasn't been a time gap, big enough to sneak there to drink. But something had changed, something unexpected had happened. The raccoon tilted his head in disbelief. What a weird human! First the boy had run and then he simply fell down? And now, he didn't even get up again! Something was wrong, wasn't it? The critter rushed closer, keeping a bit of a distance still, as he walked round the motionless frame. Was he...? But his face revealed that the boy was alive, the sides of the nose moved as he breathed. The raccoon hadn't seen a human this close, yet and wasn't this the boy he had seen earlier? His curiosity was awoken, the little human looked peaceful and calm and a closer look shouldn't be too risky, right? The critter waddled forward, sniffing the new scent, as he was next to the boy. He was intrigued and couldn't stop himself, feeling safe enough to be this bold. His small paws reached out, touching the red cheeks. No reaction. How could someone fall asleep on such a place? He tilted his head once more, grabbing again gently, this time on the thing that stood out the most, the nose.

A tiny, clawed hand grabbed the tip of his nose, the feeling definitely not from a human hand. It alarmed him a bit, his eyes fluttering open and then widening upon seeing the tiny critter. He had never seen something like this, not from up close! A raccoon, if his memory didn't fail him. It must have been the same creature he had seen earlier. He didn't move at first, stunned by the sight. But then, he quickly scrambled to get up, the freezing snow on his face becoming too uncomfortable to bare.

The human's eyelids opened and the raccoon saw into light blue eyes, a color like the sky itself. The critter was as frozen, as the boy in the beginning, both simply staring at each other, neither of them had processed exactly what was going on. Then, the child suddenly moved, too quickly after this peaceful state and the rushed motions alarmed the raccoon, making the fur on the neck stand up in an instant. All his instincts told him to flee, he had been too close anyway! The next heartbeat, his tiny paws rushed through the snow, faster and faster as he hurried around the corner of a house. Almost safe! The critter made another jump, as he heard a weird sound, something clicked and moved and a sharp pain suddenly pierced through him, letting him scream out loudly as his sprint came to a harsh end.

Varian watched the animal leave, rushing away, as if it was never meant to be here. He just looked at it, following it as it took its course, getting lost in the distance and the boy ready to pick up his bucket again. When suddenly, he heard a cry, an alarming sound that made him freeze, looking over at that direction. Only to run to it, moments later. Was the little guy in trouble? He turned the corner and the sight made him wince, gasping as he halted and took a step back. He began to panic, he had no idea what he was meant to do in such a situation. The critter was trapped and hurt, he couldn't just leave it like this. But opening the trap himself, sounded like a bad plan, too. He had promised Quirin after all, no more wounds! "Ho-Hold on! I'll go get help!" he talked to the animal, as if they spoke the same language and he dashed back to his father, still tired, but the adrenaline gave him a boost. "Dad! Dad!"

Quirin had walked out of the stables and was already wondering, why Varian was nowhere in sight, as the boy dashed around the corner of some nearby houses. His voice was upset and nervous, along with his wide opened eyes, the father knew immediately that something was wrong. He let the empty buckets drop and rushed towards the child. With this closing distance, he noticed something else, the cloak and his trousers had some  snow on it, like the child had fallen down. _Or had he been shoved down?_ His worry grew and, with a concerned gaze, he stopped in front of the boy. "Varian, what happened? Are you okay?" Why had he shouted so desperately? Why had he been away from the well? There were so many questions right now and he searched for answers in the shaken expression of his son.

He tried to catch his breath, stopping in front of Quirin. He wasted no time, once the heaving stopped and stopped in a hurry. "I'm okay! But an animal got caught in a trap! We need to get it out!" he grabbed Quirin's hand, trying to lead him to the critter. He didn't want to waste any time, the raccoon needed him!

Knowing that Varian was well, reassured Quirin. But there was a hurt animal? The father remembered some farmers had complained about little thieves, raccoons and foxes that stole food or even attacked the livestock. Apparently, they had set up traps now, a common thing to do, the winter was hard this year and the villagers needed their food. Quirin fell silent, not knowing how to reply. But the child grabbed his hand and started to walk without a second thought, his lips pressed together in determination, leading the man to the place. It was important to Varian, no doubt, the boy had a gentle heart. He wanted to help the animal, a pest most likely, but his son didn't care, for him, it was a creature in need, and this moved Quirin. He followed with wide steps, the child didn't need to drag him anymore. They reached the spot a moment later and like he had predicted, a raccoon was trapped there. Quirin frowned at the sight, this kind of trap would have hurt the animal for sure.

Varian looked at the trap again, his stomach clenching at the sight, making him almost sick. He fidgeted with his gloves, looking at the critter, with knitted brows. "What do we do, dad? We can't leave him here!" he stressed, looking at his father now, unsure and lost. Why had they set up such horrible traps anyway?! The raccoon couldn't have possibly done anything that warranted such treatment. Then again, he was told the same about himself.

His son looked up to him, bright blue eyes begging him to help. The father nodded at the child's words, the animal was wounded and would suffer, if they would leave it be. "You are right, son." The father ruffled Varian's hair to ease his worry a bit, before he crouched down to the critter, the poor thing hissing in panic and scrambling to get away, to no avail, the trap had closed tightly around his leg. "Calm down, little guy, calm down." Quirin took off his cape first, placing it next to him in the snow. "We want to help you." Slowly the man reached out and the raccoon watched him with wide eyes, starring in horror at the approaching hand, while his heart beat wildly, the furry chest moving up and down quickly. The animal flinched in panic as the giant touched his foot, not knowing that the man rather wanted to free him, instead of hurting him. As his last resort, he lunged forward and bit down into the leather glove, he must scare this human away somehow, get free before he could hurt him further! Quirin didn't even wince as the animal tried to defend itself, his gloves were thick enough to ease the bite very well. Calmly, he opened the trap and with a click the leg of the raccoon came free. The critter's ear twitched at the sound, the pain must have eased at the same moment too. He was definitely on his way to flee, but before he could race away Quirin swiftly grabbed the cape with the other hand and threw it over the critter to catch him.

Holding his breath, he watched them closely, worried that his father might accidentally hurt him more. But he also, trusted Quirin, his father better knowing what to do to help the creature. Finally, the trap snapped open, Quirin throwing his cape like a net over him. What was he planning to do? He couldn't tell for sure. But the raccoon must have still been distressed, the man's build being intimidating even to humans. Varian thought quickly, but thought of asking first what their next step would be. "What are we gonna do, now?"

Quirin had carefully picked up the raccoon, the animal still struggling in the new trap, fighting against the fabric. The father's grip was tight, yet he held it in a way that wouldn't hurt the creature further. At least he hoped, the little guy still hissed and complaint against the treatment. Quirin had never helped a predator before and the cows and sheep were a lot more easy to calm down in his opinion. "We..." He adjusted his grip before the critter could struggle out of the cape, the head already peeked out. "We need to fix his leg, with this injury, he might not survive in the wild. But first..." Another hiss interrupted the man. "First we need to calm him down." ' _And I have no clue how.'_

Varian approached them, hesitantly. The sounds the small animal made, alarming him and warning him to keep his distance. "I think I might have an idea! I'll be right back, you take him to the stables!" he spoke and rushed to where he remembered he had seen some apples. He had seen the critter stealing some of them earlier, so, maybe he liked them.

Quirin watched how Varian hurried away, as fast as he was able to run. For a moment, he didn't move, the boy had already vanished behind the corner of a house, the father now, on his own and in his hands, an upset bundle of a raccoon. What a day. The man shook his head gently, while smiling. Varian had always had his own head, but also a bright mind, so maybe his idea worked. For now, the father could simply do what the boy had asked, so he walked back to the stables and chose an empty barn compartment. He even closed the half-height door behind him, a little obstacle in case if the critter would slip through his grip. With a sigh, he sat down on the straw. The animal still struggled with a quick heartbeat, convinced the human would hurt him, any second. "You are a really wild one, little guy" Quirin looked at the dark and frightened eyes. This poor thing. "We won't hurt you. You will see." The man raised his head and looked in the distance, not noticing how the ears of the raccoon twitched.

The boy returned, out of breath and tired, a couple of apples in his hands, red and ripe. He entered the stall, and knelt down next to his father, eyes on the racoon. "Hey..." he breathed out, worn out from all the physical exercise, but he didn't focus on it. Instead, he held one of the apples in his hand, hesitantly bringing it closer to him.

The raccoon listened to the man's low voice, the tune a bit reassuring, but the animal was not truly convinced, yet. Its leg was still hurting sharply and this weird thing that was wrapped around him, stopped his movements and attempts to flee. He wanted to hiss again, loud and angry, to finally get away, as the creaking of a door caught his interest, instead. _Another human-_ The raccoon drew back his ears in discomfort for the new turn of events. But then, the human came closer, a small frame, a young boy, the one he had seen before. The child moved slowly, carefully and eventually, came down to the same level. Sky blue eyes met his own, this time a lot calmer. Somehow this boy looked nice. The raccoon turned his ears forward again and his nose twitched at the familiar scent. But he could not only smell the human child, but also something else, something _very_ interesting... an apple! Now his defense was broken, he saw the red fruit in front of him - and this could only be a good sign, right? No other human had given him food before! He stretched his neck to get closer, sniffing excited at the treat. His paws were still caught in the fabric, so he couldn't simply _grab_ it, although he would really, really like to do this now!

Varian brought the apple, closer to the animal, watching how it focused on it, nose twitching, the red almost hypnotizing it. The boy kept a cautious hand near it, bringing it close enough for the raccoon to bite. "It's okay, we won't hurt you." he spoke softly, as if he'd understand him. It seemed like his plan to calm the frightened animal, had worked.

The words let the raccoon's ears twitch, once again, the voice so gentle and quiet, the boy really seemed trustworthy. And there was the apple, this wonderful red fruit right in front of him. It was finally, within his reach and the animal didn't wait any second longer. First he nibbled onto the apple, almost shy, but then, greed took over and he bit into the fruit with relish, devouring it bit for bit.

Varian chuckled a little, turning to look at Quirin, happy that his plan worked and that the critter was no longer scared or fighting them. "So, now what? We can't leave his leg as it is." he said, still uncertain of what they were meant to do. He counted on Quirin now, Varian having run out of plans.

The father watched both of them, especially the raccoon. The animal had calmed down, the food had distracted him perfectly. Now it shouldn't be too difficult to treat him. But all their stuff was in the castle and the other animals in here, needed more water. The little guy had to wait a bit. Quirin glanced down once more, the animal still relaxed. It seemed the raccoon wouldn't fight anymore, a great relief since the father didn't want to risk that Varian would be bitten by the wild animal. "You are right, son. We will treat his leg in the castle. But before we could return, I need to feed and water the rest of the animals." He held out the bundle with the hurt raccoon, checking with an attentive eye if the critter's mood would change. But instead of backing away or hissing, the animal simply sniffed a bit, while the black pearls looked around curiously. "Would you mind holding him in the meantime?"

While Varian may have moved back a little, at first, he didn't refuse the offer. The animal had bitten Quirin earlier, but, he was calm now, he fed him, he had even touched his nose after Varian passed out. So, it should be okay! The boy was a little hesitant, but he admitted, it was a little exciting to be able to hold him too, now. "Sure!" he gave an uncertain smile, but he wasn't planning to back out. He reached out slowly, not wanting to scare him. "Hey, there, little guy, don't worry." he continued talking to the small creature, holding him carefully, almost holding his breath in fear that he would try run away or bite him. He could only hope he could trust him.

The raccoon tilted his head as he was moved, coming closer to the boy, who had been nice so far. Soft words reached him, while he was embraced carefully. The critter could feel the boy's uncertainty, but also the joy that radiated from him. With big eyes, he looked up to the friendly face and finally, he decided to trust this human. He had fed him and he held him gentler than the giant earlier, both good things. With these thoughts, he rested his head onto the fabric and closed his eyes for a moment. The leg still hurt, but the adrenaline has slowly faded away, making him almost sleepy in the warm embrace of the cape. Quirin handed the raccoon over carefully, keeping a watchful eye for a minute or two. But the animal stayed calm, surprisingly calm even. It reassured the father enough to rise to his feet and leave them alone, positive the animal wouldn't hurt his son. With a fast pace, he walked outside where he left the buckets. Time to finish his task, the animals needed their water!

A wide smile made its way on Varian's lips, his eyes on the little fur-ball. He seemed calm now, even the animal's heartbeat reflecting that sense. He was scared earlier, but now, he was quite happy to hold him. He knew it wasn't gonna be a regular thing, it was a wild animal after all, they couldn't keep him, but after all the harshness he had been met with from the villagers and other humans, it felt refreshing, meeting someone new who didn't feel so much like a stranger, someone who didn't see him as a threat. Sure, there had been the old lady too, but it still wasn't enough to balance things out. With the raccoon, he felt like the critter understood him, in a level no other human did, so far. "They hate you too, for no reason, huh?" he spoke, looking down into a dark mask. "They are being mean and hurt you, simply because they don't like you. Me too, buddy..." he continued, this time, stroking the raccoon's fur with a reluctant hand, bushing its head with careful and slow motions.

The stroking came surprising, yet the raccoon simply blinked his eyes, the additional touch was so gentle and soft, that he didn't even flinch. He closed his eyes again, relaxing even more with the soothing movements. Soon he started to purr, truly enjoying this unexpected treatment. Such a kind human child! With a delighted smile, he melted under the touch, forgetting his injury, for the time being. Quirin worked fast, he didn't want to let his son and the critter wait for too long. The wound should be treated soon, so he better hurried up. After watering all the livestock, he ran for the other food, the things for the pigs and chickens were stored somewhere else. He could show Varian, another time. For now the child, had learned enough, helped much, also. And seeing his son so careful with this injured creature made him proud, his son had a caring heart, a wonderful thing. And how he had calmed the critter was also heartwarming, a simple trick, yet effective. As he walked over to them, both were relaxed. It almost looked like Varian held a cat close to him, the wild animal so content with the treatment, like a pet would be. What a turn! "I finished everything. Let's head back and treat the leg of this little guy."

Varian nodded, looking down at the raccoon, afterwards. He pushed himself up, carefully, trying not to rock the critter, too much. He continued petting him, holding him close, trusting him a lot more now, too. He wasn't going to bite him. With a proud smile, he followed Quirin, his eyes mostly on his new friend. He could only hope the trap hadn't done too much damage, so that the animal could return home quickly. As calm as he may have been now, he doubted that he'd want to stay with them, those strangers. He was like this too, after Quirin found him in the snow. Only difference, Varian was already home, when he woke up. Regardless, he'd been just as scared.

The raccoon got nervous for a moment, while the boy stood up, the whole world moving and the ground was suddenly, far away. But the hand continued to brush his fur, calming him down again. He chittered as a small protest, why was the human walking anyway? The critter craned his neck, they were walking out of the building, soon the cool wind blew in his face, again. Would he let him go now? The raccoon enjoyed the stroking, he really did, but it was like a little adventure. Running around freely was more than tempting, if only his foot wouldn't hurt this much! But even after they had walked a bit, the child still held the critter close, embracing him carefully, while he tried to shield the animal from the wind. Black, beady eyes looked up in disbelief, scanning the boy a bit closer. The raccoon wasn't bothered by the temperature, at least not as much as this human child, no fur in his face and the cheeks reddish. Also, he could feel how his fingers got a bit colder after some time. Why had they left the warm hideout when the boy was freezing? The animal didn't understand what these human were thinking. But he felt sorry for this boy, this friendly human. So he pressed his head against the child's hand, hoping he could warm him a bit this way, his only option since his body was still wrapped in the cape. Wherever they were heading, hopefully they would arrive soon!

He couldn't hide it, he was shivering all over, his hands nearly hurting from the cold. Luckily, the raccoon helped keep his hands a little warmer, the soft fur soothing the pricking frost. He couldn't tell however, if it was just the cold, or some exhaustion had started catching up with him. He hadn't exactly finished his tasks without a misstep. If fainting could be called that. In fact, if it wasn't for the raccoon, he would have continued pushing himself, nothing to stop him from overworking. The animal had helped distract him from that goal. Suddenly, a cold gust of wind hit him, face first, nearly picking him up in its passage. He stopped, letting out a shiver, every hair standing up to fight the temperature. He couldn't wait to get home and warm up, maybe even catch a nap, if Quirin didn't need more help, of course.

Quirin heard how Varian's footsteps stopped all of a sudden. Was something wrong? The man stopped, as well and turned around, searching for the reason. Varian stood there, trembling because of the sharp wind. His gaze was determined, yet his skinny frame betrayed him, the winter clothes not stopping the icy air completely.The boy already had been two times too long out in the cold and it was a miracle he hasn't gotten sick yet. But now, the child was freezing again and it would take still some minutes, until they would reach the warmth of the castle. It had been Quirin's idea to take his son to the animals, although the weather was about to change. The man had known that it would get uncomfortable, soon. Now, the boy shivered badly and the father couldn't stand this. He stepped closer to the child and slipped out of his cloak, placing it with a swift move over the shoulders of his son and fastened up the first button of it. "Hang in there Varian. We are soon at the castle." He adjusted the hood too, the hands of the child were occupied by the raccoon and it had been on the edge of slipping away. After this, he walked on with wide steps, the wind was really cold and his arms were partly bare now, only the fur vest seemed to do a great job, his chest felt still warm.

Varian looked up at his father, a little confused. He gasped in protest however, when he noticed that Quirin no longer had a coat of his own. What was he thinking?! He would freeze! "Wait, dad, what about you?!" he asked, quite stressed now. He knew how horrible the cold can be. Was the man not aware that he could get sick? He would have given him his coat back, immediately, if it wasn't for the fact that his arms were still full.

"I'm fine, son." Quirin marched on, ignoring the protest that swung in Varian's voice. The man was convinced he could endure the cold better, it was just for some minutes, after all. Although his pace was more sped up due to the freezing wind, he slowed down and turned his head every now and then, to check if Varian was still behind him. Eventually, they reached the large building, just in time. Big snowflakes started to fall down, the wind pushed them everywhere, even into the hallway, while they stepped through the entrance. "What a weather." Quirin rubbed his arms as sneakily as possible. As soon as the door was closed, it was already a lot warmer. This year, the winter was without any mercy. No surprise the raccoon in Varian's arms had been so close by the village, food and shelter were nowhere better than there. He stepped closer and helped Varian out of the cloaks and the cape, it was better the critter stayed, as long as possible, with the child. Quirin didn't know if the animal would appreciate another attempt of him to hold him. In the end, he combed with his fingers through his own hair, pushing away some snowflakes that were already about to melt. "Alright, let's go to the fireplace. First, I'll take a look at the fire and then, we check on the raccoon."

The boy, barely kept up with the man, but finally, they reached their house, _their home_. The lack of wind within the room, was a great relief for all three of them, no longer at the will of nature. Even though they had finally reached shelter, he was still shivering, ice cold all over his face where the snow hit him. Varian paid it no mind, however and checked on the raccoon, only the cloak was out of the way, the poor critter must have been scared with all these layers over him, unable to see. He continued petting him, knowing that it would calm him down. He then heard his father speak, making him turn to him instead. "Okay! Can I help?" he asked, forgetting for a moment that he only had two hands, both of which were occupied.

Varian was motivated to be a help. Quirin's gaze softened as he looked into the attentive eyes of his son. "Your first task is taking a seat in front of the fire and warm yourself up. Also, you help me a lot with holding the raccoon. You keep him calm, while I prepare everything." With that, he headed to the living room, straight to the fire. It wasn't as burned down as he had feared, so some additional logs would already be enough.

He was a little disappointed to be ordered to go sit down, but it's not like he could let go of the raccoon, either. He simply sighed and went to his usual place, the pillow he had claimed as his own in the past few days. He sat down carefully, careful not to hurt the critter. The warmth of the fire never felt this needed, before, like he wouldn't be able to go without it for far longer. He let out a content sigh as got more comfortable, not realising that he was still petting the raccoon, a warm, soft bundle still in his arms. Hopefully, he hadn't gotten too cold out there, either.

The critter scanned, with wide eyes, the new surrounding, big stony walls everywhere. He sniffed the air to get more information, so many new scents around him. Then, something alarming reached his nose, smoke, a smell that could mean both: food or death. He stretched his neck to find the source, the world was still moving, some steps further, he heard a crackling and as the boy sat down, bright flames came into his sight. This was too much, too close, to dangerous. And the child was not even backing away! Finally, the raccoon chittered nervously, eyeing the fire with worry, while his paws struggled against the fabric.

Despite his best efforts to not alarm or hurt the creature, it seemed he was panicking, trying to flee. Varian held him a little more, careful not to squash him. "Hey, hey... it's fine. It won't hurt you." he spoke softly, shoving himself a little backwards, to give them both distance from the flames. He didn't want him to feel distressed, more than he may have been at least. He tried to keep calm, even though the raccoon's behaviour did take him by surprise. He shushed him, trying to stop his chittering, a clear sign that the animal was scared. He scratched his head and behind his ear, hoping it would be enough to get him to settle again.

The boy started to speak, making the ears of the raccoon twitch and turn to the source. With relief, he recognized that the flames were now also, a bit further away. Slowly, he relaxed again, the child petted him further, a pleasant feeling, without a doubt. The human stayed calm, showed no sign of fearing the fire. Maybe it was not this dangerous after all? He looked up with black beady eyes, studying the expression of the boy. Soft eyes returned his gaze and he got a scratch behind his ear, an amazing spot, which let the raccoon purr again, pleased. In the meantime, the father had collected everything that they would need, placing all the things on the ground. Now the most difficult part lay in front of them. The raccoon most probably would not approve the treatment.

Varian turned his gaze to the stuff Quirin had put next to him. His smile dropped a little, anxious for the little fella. He didn't know if it would hurt him too much or if it'd scare him. Or even if he himself could be able to hold him steady enough, for Quirin to help fix his leg. He certainly wouldn't want to fight the animal, but he also wasn't sure how bad the injury was, keeping his eyes away as much as he possibly could. He could only trust that Quirin would be careful enough. "Should I make him look away?"

Quirin could see how the boy stiffened up, nervous about his task. "Don't worry, son." The father gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Just make sure he doesn't slip away, catching him here could turn out difficult and he shouldn't run before I take a look at it." He kept his movements slow, unraveling the feet of the animal. A glad sigh could be heard as he checked the little guy. "He is a lucky one. Nothing too bad." The man cleaned and wrapped the wound carefully, the raccoon had stayed calm more or less, he had chittered and flinched a bit at the new human who had invaded the peaceful stroking, but he hasn't tried to flee or bite, thankfully. Now, the critter looked doubtful to the fabric around his leg, not exactly happy about it, but the scratching of the child let him exercise leniency.

While Qiurin was busy, Varian ensured keep the raccoon calm, petting him and scratching him. He seemed to have liked the spot behind his ear, too. It was a useful thing to know whenever the critter flinched or seemed to want to run away. Thankfully, his father worked quickly, allowing them both to relax again. "That's it, good boy." he spoke to the little fur-ball as his father finished off.

Quirin was glad it had all worked so well. The raccoon would be fine soon, good news for his son. And the child really needed some good news. Another disaster of a day, was the last thing they could bear now. But here they were, next to the cozy fire and the critter had behaved amazingly well, for a wild animal. The father hummed at Varian's comment, while he stood up to bring all the things that were scattered on the floor, back to their place. "Since the storm hasn't subsided yet, he can stay here a bit. Before we release him, we have to take off the bandage, anyway." He looked down to the small boy with the furry bundle in his lap. Now that they have taken care of the most important thing, it was time to care for their own needs. "What about you? Do you need anything? A blanket?" But not only the cold wind had been an issue. Varian also had worked today a lot, he must be exhausted, he was not used to it after all. "And I should make a meal of course. Any wishes?"

"Hm..." he knit his brows, looking down, his eyes resting on the critter. He didn't have anything in particular he wanted. But he figured the animals may need some food and water, too. "No, nothing specific. Just, do what you'd like to have. I'm fine with it. Also, can we give him some water? He might be thirsty." he said, stroking the raccoon, under the chin. Varian wasn't too concerned over the meal. It's not like he could remember what he liked for dinner, anyway. Quirin could choose something he liked and he'd be just as happy. His focus was, instead, with the animal, the critter sleepy on his lap, visibly more comfortable. He couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Why would someone want to hurt the little guy like this? What could he have possibly done to deserve being treated this way? Then again, the village children didn't seem to have a reason to mistreat him either. Simply because they could. Because they saw him as a pest, a threat, a problem. They too had driven him into a trap. It was odd how similar his new, temporary friend was to himself. The raccoon had even come to him when he fainted, not scared to approach him, at first. It's like the animal could not see how he and his dad were different, how there was blue on his hair or knew of the events he was wrongly accused of, unaware of the rumors and the whispers and the secret conversations.

Quirin nodded slightly. "Yes, yes of course. I'll get some." Varian's eyes were glued on the creature he protected. He probably didn't notice, but his former worried gaze had changed into a smile, calm and honest, while he kept petting the animal. The father watched them some heartbeats long, before he turned around to get some water for the critter. While he walked through the hallways, he thought about a good meal he could serve his son. It should be something filling, the child could use some new energy after all. With a pondering face, he went through different options, some things would simply take too long to prepare. Eventually, he settled for something, while he was on his way back. "Here." He bowed down slowly, careful not to spill the water in the bowl. It was shallow enough for the critter, Quirin wanted to avoid that the little guy would stress his leg, so he chose something where the raccoon could stay on all of his four paws, instead of raising up on his hind legs. Still, the bowl was big enough to hold a lot of water. On top of that, Quirin placed an apple on the floor, a treat for the critter, who stayed so calm in his son's arms. He gave both a smile and raised up again. "I need some time to prepare dinner, is there anything else you need in the meantime?"

Lost in his thoughts, he was a little off guard when Quirin finally, walked back in, again. "No, I think we are good for now." he replied, turning his gaze to the animal again, who seemed to be gravitating towards the apple. Either he was very hungry and the earlier treat wasn't enough, or he was a greedy little fella. He picked it up and brought it near him, assisting him a bit. Suddenly, Varian internally jolted, turning to look up to his father, before he left. "Hey... Thanks, dad." he said, remembering that he had yet to thank Quirin for helping the animal and even making sure his son stayed warm out there, even if it meant he himself would be cold. Varian truly was thankful to have him, especially now that he needed someone to rely on, the most. And maybe, he was even using Quirin's example to tend to the critter in need, now. He wanted to be like him, so badly. Respected and loved for all the right reasons.

The thanks came suddenly and unexpected, but Quirin appreciated it. He had been already at the door, his hand on the handle, ready to go. Now, he turned around once more and looked at his son with a soft gaze, simply keeping eye contact for a moment. Finally, he gave Varian a nod with a small smile, before he really left. The meal was quite a bit of work and he felt for himself already, hungry, so the child felt, most probably, the same. It was time to cook something. The fabric which was wrapped around the raccoon had hindered his movement extremely. But since the treatment was over, it only remained loosely around his frame. The critter had of course used his chance, especially since the apple was suddenly in front of him. He sneaked out his little paws easily, grabbing the red, yummy fruit, all on his own, as soon as it was in reach. He was fed, not only once, but twice? The critter almost couldn't believe how lucky he was. Well, the thing with his foot was not exactly lucky, but it felt a lot better now, after the huge human had done something with it. And such a big apple was a good compensation after all! He bit deep into the fruit, much bolder than before. Between some bites he looked up to the child, tilting his head with full cheeks, curious what would happen next.

Once his father was out of sight, he turned back to the raccoon, speaking in the tone he had been using with him, since the start. "Don't worry about the villagers. They tend to hurt what they don't like..." he whispered, almost as if he was actually trying to comfort himself, still petting the grey fur of the animal. He let out a content sigh, once he was alone again, tiredness catching up to him. It was a different kind of tiredness this time. Not the emotional exhaustion he felt after yesterday, or the physical discomfort that the fight with Stephan had brought. It was a far more bearable and fulfilling tiredness, after getting all this work done. It wasn't a defeat, it was a victory. The crackling of the fire and its generous heat, as well as the munching sounds of the soft, furred critter, lulling him into sleep, further, a drawn out yawn leaving him, along with all his tension. He thought of closing his eyes, just for a moment, only to end up laying on his side, a nearby pillow under his head, his eyelids heavy and shut, already.

The critter had watched the child closely, while he devoured the apple. The human had fallen asleep again, but this time not as sudden and he also hasn't crashed onto the ground, like before. The animal had slid slowly out of his lap with this motion, now sitting mostly on the floor. He sniffed a bit and fidgeted with his paws on his mouth, licking away the last remains of the treat. Once this was done, he looked back to the boy, he must be fast asleep by now. The raccoon waddled a bit closer to his face, but kept a bit more distance this time. Outside in the snow, it hasn't been the right place to sleep, for the human, but here, in his lair, it should be alright, shouldn't it? This time there was no need to be worried. The animal waddled further, careful with the wrapped leg. It hurt just a bit, but still he avoided to use it with his full weight. His way had led him to the water the giant had brought.

He may be not as nice as the boy, at least in the mind of the critter, but the water and the apple tasted great. Now, he was no longer thirsty. Black pearls looked around and inspected the room. Now, his sight was no longer limited and he turned his neck in all directions. Stony walls everywhere! He marched curiously around, slower than usual and more careful, but still he was up to learn more about the new surrounding. He took a route far away from the flames, exploring the other side of the room, sniffing curiously on the wooden shelves and the other things in his reach. One time, he looked up to the table, a tempting thing to hop on, but he stopped himself, because of the leg. Maybe a little later, then. With this, he had seen most of this strange place and he eyed the part with the flames again. No, his instincts told him he should better stay away. The human child was already close enough to this crackling thing. His gaze wandered over to the boy, he was still sleeping. Well, actually, the critter was also a bit tired. With a wide yawn, he made up his mind. He trotted back to the starting point and saw, that on the soft thing, which the boy had laid his head on, was still enough space. Carefully, he climbed up, his paws sinking deeply into the soft material. What a good place to sleep! The raccoon placed himself on the pillow, snuggling up, almost naturally, next to the boy. This day, he had learned that he didn't have to fear this human and with this thought, his eyelids shut and he drifted into a calm sleep.

The cheese spaetzle sizzled in the frying pan, the cheese on top of it, golden and molten. Finally, they were ready! Usually, he would serve them in the frying pan, but the father didn't want to risk that Varian would burn himself. And the raccoon was also in the room, who knows how much he would listen to a 'no', once he smelled food. So for the sake of both of them, he put the food on two plates, before he walked over to the living room. "Varian, I'm back." He stepped in, swiftly and closed the door immediately. The little critter shouldn't get bad ideas while seeing an open door. But instead of two pairs of eyes who would greet him, the man saw the sleeping frame of his son. The raccoon slept so close next to him, that he looked like an actual pet, more than ever. The father hesitated a bit, whether to wake them or not, the scene so heartwarming and peaceful that it made him smile. In the end, he placed both plates on the nearby table and started to eat on his own, looking over to the small sleeping frame, every now and then. Varian must have been quiet exhausted and he had earned his sleep, so he should better rest for a while.

It was a good hour, before Varian opened his eyes again, being greeted with a grey, fuzz-ball, snoring away. The floor was by far not the most comfortable spot in the house, to sleep, but the nap had done wonders for him. He got up, him breathing in the smell of molten cheese, right away, his stomach ready to grumble in protest for neglecting it this long. He sat upright and stretched, finding his father moments later. "Hey, dad." he greeted, a little awkward that he had fallen asleep like this.

"Hey." Quirin couldn't help but smile at the boy, the child still a bit sleepy and some streaks of his hair standing away in funny angles. The rumble of his stomach had also been noticed, the sound too demanding to not to hear, even from his place on the table. The father had already finished his own portion, he had been too hungry to wait and it was devoured within some minutes. Now, he stood up and took Varian's plate with him, walking over to his son. "Guess you are hungry." The man sat down on another pillow after he had handed over the plate and a fork. "Try it, I'm not sure if it is still warm enough. I can reheat it if you'd like, no problem."

Varian took the plate, grateful to find food this quickly. He dug in, before Quirin could finish his sentence, the boy hungry as a wolf. With a full mouth, he spoke. "No, no, it's fine. It's great!" he said and took another mouthful. The work had really taken its toll on him, after all. Maybe, this evening, he should take it easy. Not that any of his hobbies were physically demanding in any way. Plus, there was a certain new guest he had to keep an eye on.

The boy really had been hungry, now that the most dire need of a nap had been fulfilled, he dug in, eagerly. Quirin watched how the amount of food on the plate, decreased steadily. The father was glad, the boy, apparently liked the dish he had picked, it was hearty and would give him strength... and the father couldn't deny that the words of the old lady had resounded in his mind, while he had thought about his choice. Quirin leaned a bit back and let his gaze wander around, looking at the fire or Varian's full cheek. Eventually he noticed how the raccoon on Varian's side started to move a bit, the nose started to sniff, before the critter was even awake. What is this? There was a tempting smell in the air which let the raccoon slowly get up. The fluffy ground had really been comfortable, he had never slept better! And now, this unknown scent that had awoken him! He blinked curiously up to the child, now, also awake and with fully stuffed cheeks. What was it? He had never smelled something like that! The critter still, didn't want to stress his leg, so he craned his neck as far as he could, eyeing with asking, black pearls up at the boy.

It didn't take long for the blue eyes to meet the small, dark orbs. Gaze clearly stuck on the plate. Figures. Of course the animal would be interested in the food. Varian slowed down, his eyes exchanging looks between the plate and the raccoon, unsure if it'd be alright to give him some. He gulped down his mouthful and turned to Quirin, looking for a confirmation of some sort.

Quirin had expected the situation and he had planned to tell the child to shoo the raccoon away from the food. Well, he had expected that the raccoon would be cheeky, grabbing something from the plate on his own. But instead of this, the animal only sat there, pleading quietly for a bit. This scene was such a surprise, Quirin didn't have the heart to say no, anymore. His gaze had softened and he sighed defeated. He just hoped he wouldn't regret his new decision someday. "Go ahead. But just a bit. He can eat other things too, but the dish, I made for you."

A smile found its way, quickly on his face and he put a small portion of the food, on his palm, lowering it to the raccoon. "There you go." he spoke softly and put the plate up on the table, using now his last free hand to pet the critter. It was such a new thing, for him. He couldn't recall having a pet before, but a hunch feeling told him that when he was young, he liked animals. "Did I used to have a pet? Or fed any animals when I was younger? I... think I might have." he turned to Quirin now, a little hopeful to hear something useful.

The father nodded. "You had no pet of your own, but you have always loved animals. Down in the village, you lit up every time when a cat came to you and you had an encounter with a wild rabbit in the winter, once. You fed him with the carrot that was supposed to be the nose of your snowman." Quirin chuckled softly. "But the snowman wasn't left without a nose, we gave him a pine cone, instead." The man treasured this memory so much, his son had been so happy, had beamed at him with bright blue eyes and red cheeks, it had been an almost similar harsh winter, the kid with many layers of winter clothing. Had Varian remembered this? Had he recalled the rabbit? The father hoped somehow for it, this winter had been peaceful and happy, so different than the current one.

"Huh, I knew it." he mumbled to himself, a satisfied smile on his face as he turned again to the raccoon, the critter now, licking his palm. He had to admit, he was starting to get attached to the adorable little fur-ball. He lifted his head up, again, taking a peek at the window. It was getting dark outside and the wild winds could be heard easily, wrecking havoc freely. They were ruling the nature outside the walls of the castle, no mercy at all. Heavy snowfall passing in front the glass barrier at great speed, white specs rushing through the dark backdrop. It was almost lucky that the critter got caught in the trap. "So, are we gonna let him go tomorrow, after the storm calms down?" he asked, as if to say 'Can he stay with us, tonight?'. He had been out in such weather before, almost twice. He would hate to do the same to the creature they had just saved.

Quirin could clearly see the unsaid plea in his eyes. Of course Varian would ask this, the storm which roared outside couldn't be overheard, creating a howling background noise. Good thing the father was not heartless either, he would never send an injured animal in such a storm, far away from their own shelter. This time, it was easy to give his permission. "Yes, he can stay tonight. These are awful weather conditions, even for an animal."

Varian gasped happily. Turning to the animal again, chuckling delighted. It was kind of exciting, being able to keep him over, for tonight. So far, his days had been pretty bad. But today's encounter had made him even forget last night's discovery, the lab still hidden behind the door. The raccoon had been the perfect distraction. His eyes finally, fell on the bandaged leg. Making him wonder. "Aren't there any better traps? Less... hurtful? I mean, if they want to keep predators away, they don't need to hurt them like this, right?"

"Well." Quirin scratched his neck at the question. He scrambled for a good answer, his son had a caring point of view for those little thieves, a thing that was not very common here. "There are no other traps, the merchants always have such models, like the one you have seen with them." He pressed his lips together, thinking about the option to convince the villagers to stop setting up traps. But although it would be the best for the animals, he couldn't let down the people either. The raccoons _were_ a pest, there was no doubt. The villagers needed the food and couldn't afford additional mouths. And without traps, the animals would come back to this tempting source of easy food.

The boy gave it some thought, disappointed that there was no alternative suggested. He lowered his gaze, the critter looking up at him. He could have sworn that the animal was begging him to find a solution, a better way for things to be done, there must be something! "Well, if there isn't a better way yet, then I'll make one, myself." he mumbled to himself, petting the raccoon more, hopeful that he could make the situation for him and the other animals, better.

Quirin couldn't understand the mumbling and he assumed that it probably was directed to the raccoon. Varian's eyelids were dropping occasionally, they were still heavy. The nap had helped a bit, but it hasn't been able to refresh him, completely. Maybe it was better to go to bed, anyway. The fact he had fallen asleep on the floor, only showed how little the child has slept the last days. Quirin remembered how Varian had avoided his question, during breakfast. The father had asked how he had slept and no answer made him suspect the child had most probably not been able to calm down or nightmares had haunted his dreams. Now, Varian's smile was relaxed and truly happy, so this time, he maybe had the chance to catch some deep sleep, his thoughts not occupied with bad experiences or fears. With a perfect timing, the raccoon stretched himself under Varian's touch, front paws far away from him while yawning, with a wide open mouth and closed eyes. This was the perfect introduction of his topic. "Maybe we should rest for today, this little guy needs a break."

Varian didn't take long to mimic the raccoon, a yawn leaving him, moments after the animal started. He nodded, completely ignoring how tired he was himself. "Are we gonna leave him sleep in here?" he asked, curious and interested in the details. Not very much thinking by this point, ready to shut down again. Who knew heavy work could tire you that much? Certainly not Varian.

Quirin gave it a thought. The animal already knew this room and would probably stay calm, but there was a little problem: the fire. The father didn't feel well to leave the animal close to the flames, there was wood everywhere and a spreading fire was nothing the man was keen on. And he didn't want to put it out either, the storm outside let the temperature drop and the fireplace would still radiate heat for hours, heat they could really need. "No, not here with the flames." He went through the other options, a room where the critter could not make much damage. "Well... maybe the laundry room..."

The boy gave the critter another look, a little worried that he'd be lonely. But he couldn't possibly keep him in his room for the night! Quirin wouldn't let him, he was pretty certain. He gave him a reassuring scratch behind the ear, before addressing his father, again. "Are you sure he's gonna be okay there?"

Quirin wasn't exactly sure. But it was the best solution that came to his mind. "I think so. There is nothing in there which could injure him." _And nothing he could accidentally destroy._ Quirin kept this thought hidden, knowing his son would probably protest. The raccoon was a wild animal after all, so it was not off that something like that could happen. Yet, the father didn't want to destroy the good mood. So he didn't make any further comments and raised to his feet. "Let's go." In the end, they just needed to try it out, the raccoon would show them for sure what he thought about their decision.

He couldn't argue with that, he would hate if the critter hurt himself on accident. He knelt and opened his arms, hoping the raccoon would maybe come to him, ready to pick him up himself if he needed to. "Come on, boy. Up you go." he spoke with soft excitement, not too loud to scare the critter, just enough to sound positive and friendly.

The raccoon tilted his head at the motion. With his black pearls, he watched the child, which looked somehow in anticipation at him. Also his gesture seemed to mean something, arms wide open and the palms directed to him. His voice was soft and calm and somehow calling. _He should come?_ Finally, the critter waddled closer, curious if the boy really wanted to carry him, again. Carrying was connected to the soft stroking, at least it had been, a wonderful feeling the raccoon would love to experience again. So he approached with a joyful smile and a happy chitter, stopping right between the arms and looking up to the child.

Thankfully, the animal seemed to have partially understood what Varian was trying to do, approaching him with a joyful sound. That was all the confirmation Varian needed to pick him up, holding him carefully in his arms, looking out for his injured leg. He then headed to the laundry room, holding him and petting him a bit more before he could leave him. He had to admit, he felt a little bad that they'd just lock the little guy there. But they couldn't simply let him roam the house, either. He finally stopped in front of the open door, looking at the animal as he crouched to put him down. "Well, this is your room for tonight. Goodnight, little guy." he scratched his head one last time, before heading off to leave and close the door.

_He had been right!_ Another happy chitter left his mouth as he felt again, the gentle hand on his head. He observed the moving surroundings, their way led away from the flames into a new room, long and high. What a huge lair they had! His nose twitched, curiously around. Soon they reached a new space, the giant waited outside, while the child stepped through the door and moments later, the raccoon was placed on the ground. He didn't grasp why they had walked around in the first place, what had been wrong with the room they had been before? And now, the human child was going away, closing the door even! The room went dark, nothing which would scare him the slightest, but he didn't know this place, it was utterly unfamiliar and as far as he had seen, there was no exit either! His heartbeat raised while the realization rolled over him. _He was locked here!_ A loud and nervous cry escaped him, as he rushed to the door. _Don't lock me here!_ Tiny paws desperately scratched on the wood, this awful barrier. Being trapped again was nothing he liked, with another pleading noise, he tried to call the humans back. They had been so nice! And now? Why had they left him here? Had he done something wrong? Would he ever get out here again?!

Varian heard his cry, his heart breaking a little at the sound. Of course the animal would be scared! They just trapped him in a room with no light or escape. _Just how the village children had done to him!_ The reminder made his heart jolt, quickly rushing to open the door, not even taking a moment to ask Quirin's permission. He couldn't stand the idea that he was treating him the same way they had, left to be lonely and scared and helpless. It all came back to him and he swung the door open, opening his arms for the critter to run to him, to comfort him. Just how Quirin had done when Varian returned home, that night. He didn't want to be like them! He refused! Instead, he'd follow his father's example.

After some horrible seconds, the door creaked open, a gap to escape! He pressed himself through it as soon as he realized the spot. Right in front of him was now the human child again. Usually he would have made a quick sidestep and fled around him, far away from the danger and the humans. But the boy had opened his arms again, the sign for him to come closer, prompting the critter to at least glance up to the boy's head. A worried face looked at him, the human was sorry, so sorry that even the animal could sense it, easily. He stopped in his tracks and scanned the child, too confused to make a decision, during the run. The human had been nice, nicer than any human ever before and he had hurried back as he had called out in distress. This was enough to restore his trust again, and he hopped right into the boy's arms, complaining with an upset trill about the former treatment. With his tiny paws, he grabbed the fabric on the child's chest, snuggling close to him. How dare he leaving him all alone at this scary place!

He held him close, petting him to calm him down. Shushing him, just how he did after he freed him from the trap. He was really glad that the raccoon hadn't been scared of him, because of this, that he didn't see him as a threat as well. One being less to be afraid of him. "I'm sorry, I didn't think this through." he spoke quietly, turning slowly to meet Quirin's gaze, begging with his bright, blue eyes for the critter to stay with him, not locked up all alone in some scary place. He knew all too well how it felt. He didn't want to be guilty of the same crime.

The raccoon reacted scared, very scared, even Quirin's heart was squeezed at the scratching sound. Varian rushed back and freed the poor animal, quickly and to Quirin's surprise, the critter even jumped into the child's arms. He approached them slowly, didn't want to startle the raccoon, in the end. It looked like they would need another plan. But he didn't need to think about this any longer. Varian turned his head up to the father, pleading with puppy eyes for the permission to keep the raccoon close to him. The father eyed him a moment and then, he sighed softly, clearly defeated. He had never been able to deny a puppy eye plea. "Alright, alright. He can stay in your room. But make sure there is nothing dangerous in his reach, no candle or sharp things."

Varian nodded, lighting up a little, delighted that he wouldn't have to abandon the critter. "Don't worry, dad. I'll make sure of it!" he reassured and went to head to his own room, his eyes catching the door of the mysterious room, for a moment. His smile faltered and his eyes remained on the door for a moment. He turned around and didn't linger on it too long. Once the raccoon was gone, he'd need to seek answers. Tonight, he just wanted it to be a peaceful one. No fighting or crying or hurtful truths. He walked up the stairs, thinking a little, holding onto their temporary guest. "And this is where we are gonna sleep tonight." he announced in a low voice as he entered the room, small, but tidy. Hopefully, the raccoon would refrain from chewing the furniture or pillows. Last thing he needed was to pick up a mess first thing in the morning.

Quirin followed with a slow pace, his son walked carefully upstairs, mindful to not scare the raccoon, again. He even talked to him, with a gentle tune. Before Varian would close the door, the father hurried to him, placing a hand on the wood. "Goodnight, son." He wanted to at least tell him this, before going to his own room. He nodded at both, closing the door from the outside. They would be fine. Down in the living room, it had worked so well, both had slept peacefully, next to each other. Still, a tiny doubt remained and he just hoped the animal would not bite or scratch the boy. He tried to fight this fear down, while slipping under his own blanket. Everything would be alright. And it was only for tonight.

"Goodnight!" he returned the greeting and headed to his bed, putting the raccoon on his mattress and then headed off to find him a pillow. He didn't take long to find one, an old, slightly tattered one with a patch on it. That would work great for him. He set it next to the bed and he put the raccoon on it, carefully. Once this was taken care of, he picked up one of his books and went to go under the covers.

First, he was put on a large, soft thing and the boy ran around, searching for something. The raccoon looked around, this room felt much safer and the human stayed with him. He sniffed on the pillow and the blanket, pacing a bit forward to start his exploration. But this tour already ended after some steps, the child picked him up from his middle and placed him on a much smaller version of this soft ground. He blinked in surprise, now on the floor again. The boy had already retreated to this higher up spot, this huge and very comfortable place. The critter craned his neck, tried to see what the child was doing, but the height difference was too much to tell for sure. Why should he stay down here? All alone while the boy was up there? Also, he wanted to see what the child was doing! The raccoon wobbled off his pillow and eyed the mattress. It was a high place, but he could manage. His front paws clung onto the sheet while he climbed up, using one of the legs of the bed, scrambling over the edge with a chatter, searching for the kid.

Not long after Varian got comfortable, he heard a complaining sound and something scratching on wood. It grabbed his attention in no time and the boy was met with the critter, trying to climb up his bed. He crawled forward and picked him up, holding him in front of himself. "Now, where do you think you are going? Your bed is down there!" he explained, looking at him as if he'd understand him.

The raccoon simply tilted his head, not exactly sure what the boy wanted to tell him. The child didn't look angry, so he hasn't done anything wrong, has he? Still, it seemed to be important, the sky-like eyes still watched him, like he waited for a response. But the critter had no clue what this should be. The face was so close, maybe he wanted to be patted too? He reached forward and stretched a bit, touching, with his tiny paws, the nose of the child.

Varian flinched a little, his eyes shutting quickly, blinking a few times as a tiny, clawed hand reached out for his face, softly tapping his nose. He remembered how the critter had done the same thing earlier, when he found him in the snow. Was that to ask if he was okay? Varian stared at him for a bit. Did the animal maybe see that something was troubling him inside? That he was trying to tell him it will all be okay? He really couldn't tell. He just sighed and lowered the raccoon on his lap, petting him as a 'thank you' for his concern. So far, the only ones who cared about his well-being seemed to be his father and now, the raccoon. He once again, started to remember how alone he was in the world. No friends, or relatives and his village seemed to dislike him, to put it nicely. How was he going to lead them one day? Let alone go on with his daily life, when he literally had to hide at home. And that room that was off limits. What was the meaning of it? He must have been in there before! Hasn't he? At least, he felt like he had. It was such an odd mix, he felt like that is where he belonged, yet that he also shouldn't be there. He needed to ask Quirin. He had to get answers. He could only hope his father wasn't keeping him any secrets. He wasn't sure what he'd do if that were the case. He let out a worried sigh and sunk back to his pillows, his hand stopping from brushing the grey fur.

His touch had moved something in the boy, the raccoon could easily sense that. Now, the child was lost in thoughts and the critter back at his place, sitting in the lap. Soft strokes showed him that it had been the right thing to do and the raccoon was ready to melt away, again. But then, the kid leaned back with a sad noise, laying around without moving any further. He wasn't asleep, eyes staring into the distance, without sensing anything and he didn't look happy anymore. The critter lifted his head and let out a quiet and worried whimper. He climbed up on his chest, curling up there, while he pressed his head against the chin of the boy, gentle but determined. The kid was so nice, he shouldn't be sad!

He didn't pay much attention to the sudden weight on his chest, but then a wet nose tapped his chin, his hands reaching up to pet the raccoon. He was still lost in thoughts, but the motion was lulling him into sleep, his eyes getting heavy, once again. He could worry about everything tomorrow. Tonight, he could at least enjoy some proper rest. He had earned it. Eventually, his hand stopped moving, his eyes closing. His breathing deepening, as well. Falling asleep tonight, felt so much easier and for that, he couldn't be more thankful.

The raccoon was happy about the new spot, he could feel the heartbeat of the child and how his chest rose and sunk with each breath. It was like a gentle rocking, making the critter sleepy as well. The child had calmed down, no longer unhappy noises could be heard, just a soft breathing as the raccoon turned his ears to listen more carefully. The stoking came to an end, but the hand still rested in the warm fur. The animal opened one eye and glanced at the boy, a calm smile on his lips. In the end, his attempt to comfort the child had most probably succeeded. Relieved, he closed the eye again, enjoying the closeness of this human some moments longer, something he would have never expected by the beginning of the day. In the end, he fell asleep too, a fluffy fur-ball on top of the boy.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sledging accident, Varian lost his memory, completely.  
> When Quirin found him like this, it became clear that it wouldn't be an easy task to awaken his memories again, that is if the boy really should remember everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction is a collaboration with nyxglitch on tumblr (https://nyxglitch.tumblr.com/)! It is an rp, that's why the passages will switch the points of view.

 

 

For the first time after days, he had the first decent night of sleep that he could recall, since the accident. Maybe it had something to do with his day being better than the previous ones, or the good company he had to calm him down from troublesome thoughts. Whatever it was, he was glad he could finally, rest in peace. No nightmares or maybe memories to haunt him, to flood him with questions and doubts. A much needed break. 

Quirin slept also peacefully, waking up with the first sun rays. He slipped out of bed and walked over to the windows. A glance outside showed him that the storm had pushed the snow around, formed little hills and valleys into the thick, white blanket. The dark stems of the nearby trees were painted white on one side, revealing the former direction of the wind. The weather yesterday night, had appeared harsh and inhospitable but now, in the warm light, the remains of it showed like a work of art. The father sucked in this beautiful sight, breathing in deeply. It almost felt like he was still dreaming, the landscape so unreal and yet, it was right in front of him. Eventually, he was able to turn away, he couldn't stand here the whole day and breakfast sounded tempting. On his way to the staircase, he passed Varian's room, the door still closed. The animal came back to his mind. Had the raccoon behaved well? With quiet steps, he walked over to the door, opening it carefully to peek in. The sight which welcomed him, was even more peaceful that the picture outside. The raccoon had taken a place on the child's chest, snuggling with the boy in harmony. And Varian had a relaxed expression of his own, all the former insecurities wiped away by the interaction of the little critter. With a soft gaze, the father stood in the doorway and smiled genuinely. A truly good day. He closed the door as quietly as he was able to, both of them had been exhausted and deserved a lot of sleep. It wouldn't hurt to let them sleep a bit longer.

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with a soft, golden glow through the curtains, and a small snore near his neck. The raccoon was still there, hadn't even moved an inch, all night long. Part of him, feared that he'd wreak havoc during the night, that he'd wake up to a ruined room. But the critter had behaved himself, simply sleeping and enjoying the cozy nest of the humans. It honestly was a shame that they'd need to send him off, again. But his home was out in the woods, free and wild, not stuck within four walls. He gently pet him on the head and along his back, trying to wake him up, so he could get up, himself.

The raccoon grumbled, softly and moved a bit, his ringed tail brushed along Varian's arm. The critter was not used to being touched out of the blue from such a - from his point of view - big hand, but it felt good, gentle and careful, so he was not scared by it. His eyes fluttered slowly open, focusing on the face in front of him. The human child! He purred and pressed his head against the warm hand, delighted by this unusual way to wake up.

Varian chuckled a little, happy by the little guy's reaction to seeing him. He was happy to see him, that was for sure a first for him. He brushed his fur with his fingers, speaking softly and cheerfully. "Morning, you sleepyhead." he said as he tried to push himself up, careful not to disturb him too much. He managed a not-really sitting position, just a little higher on his pillow. "What do you say? Gonna go home today, huh?"

As a response, the raccoon yawned deeply, mouth wide open, followed by shaking himself quickly. Time to stand up? He shoved himself in a sitting position and scratched his ear with his paw, before his gaze returned to the boy. He chittered softly at him and climbed closer, brushing with his fur along the child's cheek, before he placed himself on the pillow next to the boy's face. A quiet rumble could be heard, the critters stomach already demanding food, again.

Once the critter was off him, he pushed himself upright, looking at the small fur-ball with a smile, his heart melting a little. It was almost surreal how an animal could treat him so much nicer than most people he had met. No judgment or insults or even biting him. Just happy to be around him. Maybe it had something to do with the food. And from the looks of it, the critter was hungry again. He himself could relate to that, truth be told. "Come on, time to wake up." he ruffled his fur and got off the bed, stretching a little, before he went to look for something to wear for the day. 

With attentive eyes, he watched the boy standing up and walking through the room. Right, he hasn't checked this place yet! The critter wobbled over the blanket, feet sinking deeply in the sheets. From this higher place, he had already a good look, but nothing could beat his nose, sniffing around would give him far more information. So he hopped down the bed and wandered about, checking the furniture all around. In the end, he reached the boy again, standing in front of a wooden box, looking into it. What was it? He waddled closer and danced around the child's feet, with a chitter, brushing along his legs. 'I am here!' He craned his neck and tried to understand what the human was doing, some of the soft material in his hands.

He picked out something simple. It wasn't like there was anywhere to go, today, as far as he knew. Even if there was, staying behind to take a look at the room again, sounded like the better choice. His thoughts however, were interrupted when the critter brushed against his leg, making a sound to catch his attention. He really did like him, didn't he? He knelt down and gave him a short stroke over his back. He had to admit, he didn't really want him gone. But it wasn't like he could demand to keep a wild animal out of its real home. After breakfast, they should probably unbandage his leg and set him free. The critter maybe even had a family of his own that he needed to be with. After he got dressed, he knelt down again, opening his arms to carry the critter, downstairs. "Come on, buddy, hop on."

This was his sign! He jumped up in the boys arms, hoping for another scratch. He didn't understand the situation completely, why the boy was so nice, all the other humans had shouted and scared him away, so far. But here it was different, here he had food and shelter and he loved it. This was a wonderful place, and the child a wonderful human. He purred full of joy, climbing up further than usual, up to the shoulders. Better he told the little human how much he loved it here! He brushed along his neck and pressed his head on the child's cheek. This new place was a lot higher and he was at the same eye level as the boy. A really good spot!

It took him by surprise, when the raccoon climbed up on his shoulder. Making pleasant sounds and rubbing his head against his face. As much as Varian loved how the raccoon seemed to appreciate him, showing him again how to trust and make friends, a little voice in the back of his mind, wouldn't shut up, reminding him how this wouldn't last for too long. He gave the critter a short scratch behind the ear and headed downstairs, the weight on his shoulders, unfamiliar but not too troublesome. 

Quirin's eyes widened in surprise, as his son came into the kitchen, the raccoon on top of his shoulders, sitting there freely and looking around, curiously. "Good morning, son." Quirin stood up, a bit unsure what to do with the animal. The table was already set, food everywhere. The nose of the critter was twitching, of course he sensed the treats. The father's eyes switched between the breakfast and the raccoon. Would he jump on the table?

"Morning, dad!" he replied, sitting down with an awkward smile, holding Ruddiger down, with one hand. "Uh, did you sleep well?" he tried to start a conversation, a pretty standard topic to pick at breakfast. He was aware that the raccoon on his shoulders was an odd sight, but he didn't really want to shoo him away, just yet. 

Quirin cleared his throat and sat down again, before he responded. "Yes, I slept well. How about you?" He reached out and grabbed some honey, spreading it onto the bread he had prepared a minute ago. It was swiftly done and he placed the finished piece at Varian's plate. The raccoon in the meantime, chittered quietly, moving a bit due to the excitement. So much food! His nose couldn't stop sniffing, a lot of different scents reaching him. He had the urge to jump down and grab one of these tempting things, his stomach growled again in front of this feast. But there was a hand on his back. The boy's hand, holding him just a tiny bit, but it was enough to tell him he should stay here. And did he get a bit of the food, each time? The critter tried to be patient, although his mouth already was watery and his eyes glued on the object that was now placed in front of the boy.

Varian was about to eat, when another loud growl came from the critter. Or more specifically, his stomach. Poor thing must be hungry too. He gave it a little thought and got up, walking over to the fruit bowl. He handed him a pear and stopped holding him, hoping that would be enough for him, for the time being, even if the weight on his shoulders was becoming a little tiring. He sat back down, finally, taking a bite of his own food. 

With joy, the critter grabbed the pear and munched at it, immediately. He knew the fruit, so no observation was needed. The raccoon chomped loudly, devouring the fruit in no time. Afterwards, a small tongue licked around his mouth, cleaning his hands too, the sweet sap sticking on them, but not for long. He let out a purr, the most urgent hunger was luckily stilled. Now his interest shifted to the table, the boy had sat down again in front of all the other stuff, the things which didn't look familiar. The raccoon leaned a bit forward, careful to not lose his balance on this always-moving place. The child was biting into the thing that the giant had placed in front of him. The sweet scent of the golden honey was familiar, but what was the rest? His nose twitched excited as he almost touched this new thing, his own cheek very close to the boy now, who was trying to eat.

Varian was about to continue eating, stopping mid motion and freezing there, watching the critter, with the corner of his eye. That couldn't be a good sign. He had just given him food. What, he wanted more? Figures... He is quite the hungry one, after all. He looked at the table, trying to think if any of what they had could be any good to give to the raccoon. A little worried that Quirin would scold him for even thinking it. They weren't supposed to spoil the animal, after all. He was a wild raccoon who would need to be sent out in the open again, in a few minutes...

Of course one fruit hasn't been enough for the animal, the raccoon now interested in the honey bread right in front of him. The father sighed, they should better feed him more, before he really jumped on the table. He had cut some ham anyway. The man was not exactly glad about it, the food was originally meant for them and not the animal, but the ham would fill this little, greedy stomach in no time. He picked up some pieces and put them on Varian's plate. "I see, our guest is very hungry. Sending him away like this wouldn't be fair."

Varian watched him and then, smiled at his gesture, truly a kind man who cared about others. How he wanted to be like him. A great person, worth respecting. But, in the back of his mind, a voice continued to pester him. 'What about the secrets he is hiding?'. Varian couldn't really digest it, how could a person this kind-hearted and caring and good, hold secrets and from his son of all people. He didn't want to believe it. It didn't add up. His father was perfect. As far as he could tell. And he wanted it to stay that way. He would hate if anything destroyed that picture he had only started to rebuild again, after the accident. And he'd hate it even more if what caused the destruction, was a secret, one that Varian needed to know more than anything he had found out so far. While lost in thoughts, he brought some of the ham close to the raccoon, he himself grabbing some more to eat, as well. 

The critter was visibly delighted, his cheeks were stuffed with ham, and his little paws held even more of it. The father watched the animal, placed on his son's shoulders. As happy as the raccoon's face was, as preoccupied was Varian's expression, a huge contrast between both. What bothered the boy? Was it because he wanted to keep the animal? Quirin hoped this wouldn't be the case, he didn't want to argue with the child about it. The raccoon was a wild animal and belonged in nature. At the moment, the raccoon behaved well, but it was not off that he would bite someday, accidentally or not. He was wild after all. Quirin let the silence linger a bit longer, waiting if the boy would address it on his own. But he stayed quiet and so the father decided to take the initiative and spoke up. "Varian? Is something wrong?"

He nearly dropped his food, visibly jolting a little, from his seat. Did Quirin know about the fact that he broke into the basement?! 'Please don't...' he begged internally, while his mind was trying to calm down. The man had said nothing about the incident, so Varian better no bring it up if it was not necessary. He pressed his lips in a thin line, chewing on them as he tried to think, fast as he could. "N-no, nothing is wrong. Everything is fine!" he faked, best he could, a forced smile on his face, his hand grabbing his arm, under the table, trying to keep himself from nervously shaking.

A concerned chitter could be heard, the raccoon has sensed the child's nervousness easily, the boy had moved and now his shoulders stiffened up, so there must be something. The black masked face turned to the kid, the black pearls searching for eye contact, while he snuggled closer to the neck of the boy. Why was he afraid? Quirin sighed, he could see that Varian wasn't honest here, not only the reaction of the boy itself revealed him, but also how the raccoon behaved. The animal had sensed it too, this couldn't be a misinterpretation. So he tried again. "Varian, whatever it is, you can tell me."

Varian was about to begin panicking, looking for an excuse. Then his eyes fell on the worried  gaze of the furred critter, looking at him with so much concern, he had never seen in anyone else other than his father. "I... I'm just sad to see him go." he answered. Hopefully that would be enough to convince the man. He could ask his questions once the animal was out of the scene. As of now, he didn't feel like it was a good time.

Quirin considered this reply a bit, keeping his investigating gaze some heartbeats longer. In the end, he believed him, the reason close to the thing he had guessed. "I see." He prepared a new slice of bread, an excuse to look away. "But you know that we have to let him go, right?"

The boy nodded, humming in agreement. He stared at the animal a little longer. The more things to worry piled up, the more his appetite left him. He had eaten enough, for now. There was work to be done... And from the look the animal was giving him, it wouldn't be an easy task. He got up, getting the raccoon off his shoulder and held him in his arms, close to his chest. "Um... I better get it over with..." he said and turned away, going to get his coat and scarf.

The humans had talked to each other, discussed something. Black pearls switched between both, trying to understand what was going on, but to no avail. The raccoon could only sense that the child became more and more sad. This shouldn't be! He wanted to comfort him further, but the boy picked him up and held him now different, his back was leaning against the kid's chest, he could clearly feel the heartbeat, a bit faster than it had been while sleeping. He chittered softly, complaining about the new spot. How could he comfort him, now that he couldn't even see his face? Instead of the child, he saw now the giant, nodding to a thing the boy had said. What was going on? He was carried away from the food, no big deal at the moment, since he was satisfied with his meal. But the boy hasn't finished yet! There had been something left! The critter moved in his grip and chirped confused. Oh, how much he wished to understand them better!

Varian put the raccoon down, for a moment, dressing himself quickly, but not particularly excited or energetically. Once he was done, he picked up the critter again, holding him close to himself, this time, letting him face the one who held him. After unraveling the bandage on his leg, he walked outside, the weather so much calmer now, as if there was never a single storm in this village. He walked off, towards the woods, stopping before some trees. He had yet to realise, but his eyes had began to water. Holding the critter a little tighter. He may have stayed with them for only a night, but it wasn't every day that Varian met someone this friendly, this happy to be with him, this... ignorant to the fact that he was weird with no friends and a blue streak on his hair. He admitted. He would miss having someone to keep him company, other than his father that is. And even then, he wasn't sure for how long their lives would remain peaceful. There was still a confession to make, tell him the truth and maybe find some truths of his own, too. He knelt down, squeezing the critter one last time in his embrace, before letting go and putting him on the snow, pushing himself up, straight after. "Well..." he sniffled "It was nice meeting you... Be careful out there, okay?"

It was so weird! With a tilted head, he watched how the boy put more layers on, the ones he had worn at their encounter outside. Does this mean they would heading outside? Before he could think about it more, he was picked up again and his sight was suddenly filled with fabric. He craned his neck and looked upwards, up to the boy, realizing how serious his gaze was. He chirped once more, asking for his attention, but the child went further, leaving the building, just like the raccoon had guessed. The sun fell on his pelt, the golden point in the sky which made everything a lot warmer. Today there was no cold wind either, so it was a lot more friendly than yesterday. Still, the critter snuggled closer, not because of the cold but more because he felt something was off, very off. The child embraced him tightly, but didn't speak anymore and there was a strange tension in his motions, like he would hesitate each step. Then, the boy knelt down and released him, putting him down in the snow. The critter cooed softly, while he followed the child's motion with his head. Why did they get here? It was still a riddle to the raccoon. He chittered at the words, not knowing what they could mean. The only thing he could sense was the sadness. So he waddled through the snow, brushing along the boy's legs. Don't be sad human child!

'No no no, don't walk back-' he sighed as he watched the critter coming back to him. "No, little guy. You have to go back to your home... And I need to go back to mine." he took a step away from him, looking down at the critter. His sight was now becoming blurry, about to turn to leave again. Hopefully, the animal would finally get the message.

The boy had stepped away a bit, but was still talking to him. The critter listened carefully, ears all turned to the sound. Too well, he could hear the suppressed tears in his voice. The boy was still sad! His earlier attempt hasn't worked apparently, so he should try harder then! Swiftly, he approached again and climbed up to the boy's shoulders in no time. From here, he could much better help him, and he really wanted to see this nice human smile again. He purred worriedly and snuggled close to his neck, his tiny paw reaching out to pat the cheek of the child.

Before he could get away, the raccoon was once again, on his shoulders. It broke his heart, it really did. The critter was trying his best to make him smile, to stop the tears, putting all this effort just to see him calm down. And yet, Varian would have to leave him here. He knew it was for the best. Quirin would never approve. And the raccoon, he'd need his space, his home, his own family. This is where he belonged. He told himself all that. As he grabbed the raccoon off his shoulders again, he gave him one last, tight hug, a sob leaving him. "I'm sorry. I wish you could stay... But you need to go back. You have to!" he put him down again, taking steps back and turning around, running away. "Goodbye..."

He was lifted away from the boy's shoulders, before he had been able to calm the child. After a short squeeze and a heartbreaking sob, he found himself placed in the snow, again. The raccoon blinked surprised. Didn't the boy want to be comforted? He chitterd concerned, the boy was backing away again, turning around and finally, he started to rush away. No! The raccoon chittered now, louder and followed the child with some wide jumps, until he came to a stop. The boy hasn't turned around, hasn't halted, he had hurried to get away. His ears lowered in sadness. So it was a goodbye? He whined quietly at this thought, while the boy's silhouette got smaller and smaller. They hadn't been together for long, but it had been fun and he had felt so safe with him. He stayed like that for some minutes, staring at the big building in the distance that had been his home for a day. Eventually, he was able to take his look away, turning around and waddling forward, he knew he couldn't stay here forever. But, like this place was still calling, he stopped on the edge of the forest again and looked one last time back, remembering the gentle touch of the boy and his soft voice. He already missed him, but this here was his roam, his home, his forest. With a more confident chitter, he darted away, vanishing into the snow covered woods.

The door slammed behind him, resting his back on the wood, once he entered the house. He was panting, tears still streaming from his eyes. He stood there for a moment. Trying to understand why he was feeling this way. He knew he'd need to let him go, that he wasn't supposed to stay longer than a day. And yet, it broke his heart, having to leave behind the first and only friend he had made, maybe even in his entire life. Now, it was back to being by himself. His dad, his only other company. He let out a tired sigh, finally standing on his own legs again, letting go of the door and unwrapping the scarf off his neck. 

Quirin heard the loud noise of the front door, even from the kitchen. He had continued his breakfast, but now he lifted his head quickly. Had something happened? He stood up and walked with wide steps over to the kitchen door. As soon as he had pushed it a bit open, he immediately called out. "Varian, everything alright?" Maybe the critter had scratched or bit him while he had taken off the bandage? The father scolded himself already internally, he should have better removed it by himself, before sending the boy with the animal away. Now, he hurried over to the entrance, hoping he would be wrong with this assumption.

The boy hurried to wipe his eyes, his back on Quirin while he tried to recollect himself. He couldn't let dad see him like this. If Varian had trouble letting go of a random raccoon, how would he ever be able to keep a straight face when asking for the truth, telling him about the night he broke into the basement? No, if he wanted to get answers, he'd need to be stronger! The raccoon's company was nice, but he had to let him go. The new Varian should be stronger than this! He sucked in a breath and exhaled, his posture straight and certain, not yet facing Quirin, however. "Yes, everything is fine..."

It was a suspicious sight at least. Varian appeared, maybe tried to appear, calm, yet he hadn't dared to look at his father. Quirin walked closer, an eyebrow slightly raised. Was really everything fine? Maybe he should better ask a bit more precisely, not bluntly, but with more of a focus. "Did the raccoon make any problems?"

Varian shook his head, still looking away from him. "No. No, he just left." he said, finally turning to see him, hoping so badly that his eyes weren't red or he looked at all as if he had cried earlier. It was for a brief moment, but he hoped it didn't leave behind too much evidence of how much it hurt him to do this. 

Quirin looked at Varian's slightly reddish eyes, he had cried without a doubt. Yet his face was so serious and the father saw how much the boy tried to remain strong. It seemed to be for the best to let the theme slip. Maybe the animal had sprinted away as soon as Varian released it and the child was disappointed about this. His tension eased, as well as his expression, which turned into a small smile. "You helped this little guy so much." The raccoon had needed Varian's help so dearly and in the end, Quirin was glad they had taken action, even if it ended with some spilled tears.

The boy just nodded, not really meeting Quirin's eyes. Instead, he ended up looking at the door, his anxiety returning. Was this the right time to ask? Should he maybe prepare the ground first? Keep it a secret and draw his own conclusions? No, it wouldn't be fair to be dishonest with him, not after his father had done so much for him, even within those few days. He first had to do a perimeter check, see if Quirin could have enough time for the discussion, unimportant or not. "What are your plans for today?" he switched the subject, kind of unnaturally, wanting to get to the point quickly, leave behind the sadness his earlier departure had caused. 

His words hadn't been able to brighten Varian up. Instead, the kid's gaze wandered around, avoiding Quirin, almost desperately. The father simply watched, gave him time, it felt like the boy wanted to say something, but he struggled to bring himself to address it. In the end, he really spoke up, starting a whole new topic, out of the blue. This made Quirin wonder. Also it was 'your plans', not 'our plans'. Did Varian already have plans on his own? The father remained, a moment silent, trying to understand the situation. Was there a deeper meaning to the question? But he couldn't make up a guess. Finally, he simply answered. "Today you can stay at home, the animals are fed by someone else today, we rotate this and there is no work in the village planned. So I will do some housework this morning and maybe walk a round in the village to check if there is any damage done by the storm, that's all."

He just nodded. "And when are you planning to go on the village walk?" he asked, his palms sweating a little. It'd be best that all of Quirin's work was out of the way first, that way, he wouldn't be able to avoid him. Although, Varian wanted answers and wanted them now. Still, he could use the opportunity to sneak into the room again, hopefully find something while on his own. 

"It would be best if I go now and help, if there is any damage." Quirin hated it to leave now, but it had to be done and if there was any bigger issue they could only finish today, if they start early. He just hoped all the roofs had survived the storm and no one was hurt. He grabbed his coat and slipped into it. "Can I leave you here alone, for a while? Or is there anything you want to talk about, first?" He made eye contact with a calm and serious gaze, waiting if the boy would probably talk in the end. Something bothered him, but he avoided to address it for some reason.

"Sure, go ahead." he breathed out, moving away to go to his room. It seemed Quirin was onto him, but was fully unaware of what the real issue was. He could work with that for now. It's not like it would stay a secret forever.

Quirin watched him leave with lips pressed together and knitted brows. Once the boy was out of sight, he sighed full heartedly. Sometimes, it was not easy to be a father. He could only hope Varian would talk to him at a point or get over it on his own. All he could do now was wait and hope for the best, actually something that he had done with most topics that involved Varian in the last years. But this time, it unnerved him somehow. Yet, he had to wait and postpone the talk, doing his task first. Finally, he stepped outside and headed to the village.

A deafening silence, quickly found its way in the house. Varian was now alone. 'Perfect'. He waited a moment, and once he was sure he was alone, he rushed downstairs and headed for the lab door. He froze in front of it, for a moment, the wood stretching high above him. Or at least, the door felt much taller than it truly was. A gateway to a forbidden lair. Filled with mystery. He breathed in, held it in his lungs and exhaled slowly, his hand reaching out for the handle. It was still unlocked. Quirin had not found the open door. That was good. He pushed the door open, stepping into the basement. Instead of a dark dimension filled with unsettling nonsense, he was greeted with a normal room. Granted, the junk and clutter and unknown machines were still there. But this time, he did not fear it. If anything, he felt welcome in it. His eyes trailed his surroundings, much clearer in the daylight. He knew this place... He really did. Something weak in the back of his mind, as if pushed down by a hit in the head. He walked about, much more freely, as if this space belonged to him, as if it were his room. It was, oddly enough, cozy and inviting. He eventually came across something that made him stop and gasp. On the wall, hanging dormant, a dark red, leather item, an apron of some sort. He took it carefully in his hands, the texture worn out and slightly charred in places, clearly something that had seen a lot of hardships. He crossed it over his neck, tying the laces around his waist. It fit perfectly, or at least it felt like it did. His eyes then caught a small, black pile. Upon closer investigation, he found out, they were gloves. Big, black, leather gloves, almost like his father's. He slipped them on. They were clearly too big for him, but they also looked right, the same feeling he got, when he tried on his father's gloves. Something was starting to come together. One thing more was missing however, he could feel it. A little further, he finally found it. A pair of goggles, resting on the table, heavy and shiny, in good condition. He put them on his head, fixing them on his hair with ease. It didn't take long till his eyes caught his reflection on a metal plate. This time, no stranger stared back. He knew this figure, this whole assembly of features and colours and shapes. This... This was Varian! Suddenly, the blue streak, his back hair, all those features he once doubted, they made sense. He didn't know their cause, still. But at least now, he knew who they belonged to. He watched himself, frozen, his breathing slowly increasing, as a stream of thoughts rushed through his head, images and moments and feelings and knowledge. Knowledge that up until now was locked away in his mind. Locked away... in this room. Varian's eyes widened, gasping and nearly fell down, catching himself on a nearby table. 

Quirin's walk didn't take long, the storm hasn't damaged much, just some things which had flown away or fallen down or snow that had piled up due to the wind. The villagers all had reassured him, sent him further and further until he was sure everyone was safe and could manage. He was glad it was this way, relieved that the village had overcome the storm, almost unscathed. And, on top of that, he could quickly return to Varian, maybe even talk to him. He searched for ways to start the conversation somehow, knowing very well he would search desperately for words and maybe even end up quiet again, if he didn't prepare properly. Still in thoughts, he stepped through the front door, forgetting completely to call out and announce his return. After taking off his cloak, he walked through the hallway. He should better check the fire first before heading to Varian, in case their conversation would take longer. With wide steps he went on, almost automatically, until he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. His gaze had fallen onto the door, the lab door, the locked door. At least it should be locked. But now it was wide open, obviously someone had gone through it, not accidentally, but on purpose, even unlocked it in the process. And there was only one who could be the culprit. "Varian!" he exclaimed loudly, a wild mix of worry, disappointment and a bit of anger and also this very familiar feeling of guilt, which had lingered within him, resurfaced. His legs started to run as fast as his heart was beating and like he had feared, he found his son in between all this alchemy stuff. His eyes widened as he saw him wearing the goggles and the apron, as well as the gloves. "Varian! What are you doing here? I told you to stay away! It is dangerous in here!" A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind, while he stared almost dumbfounded at his son. How long had he been in here? What had he seen? Why had he done this? Why had he taken the goggles? Had he only tried them on out of curiosity? Or did he remember?

Varian jolted at the sound of his name, a loud and angry sound that shook him to his core. Like a criminal, caught in the act. He had broken in to a room that was off limits, sure. But here's the twist. It was his, all along. Varian may have stumbled back, eyes frozen on Quirin, but it didn't take too long for the alchemist to drop his gaze, recollect his thoughts and finally, find his determination again. No, he wasn't wrong to do this! He didn't do something bad! This was a part of himself, one that his father had decided to lock away, without asking. He looked at him again, a serious look, mixed with disbelief on his face. " This was my lab, wasn't it? And you... You hid it away... Why?!"

Quirin was caught off guard with this blunt and determined response. Could he deny it? Continuing to insist it was his own stuff? No. The goggles fit too perfectly on the child's head and the apron and gloves, he had remembered all on his own. The alchemy was too anchored in his mind, a fact the father had hoped wouldn't be the case. But it unfortunately was, the way the boy gazed up to him was certain, no longer clouded or lost. He remembered. Probably not all, but still enough to block the father's plans. Quirin couldn't keep lying and denying, any longer. He pinched his nose in annoyance, while Varian's questions remained unanswered. Why had he been so disobedient to even break in here? This had been fast, too fast, Quirin had hoped so much, alchemy would stay out of their lives, for some years at least. Maybe even forever. But mostly, until Varian was old enough, able to think about the risks properly and taking the responsibilities, that came while handling such dangerous things, seriously. But Quirin had failed, he hasn't been able to lock this part of the boy away, long enough. His only remaining option was his authority as a father. "Son." He walked over to the child, while his stomach was already knotted due to the stress. He had to stay stern! "I told you to not go in here. But here you are. Varian, this room is not safe and you are not ready to handle the things in here." Although he was nervous about how the boy would respond, he stayed calm at the outside, his voice now collected and a tune that wouldn't accept a 'no'. He was now right in front of the boy, stepping a bit sideways and even closer to get at Varian's side to place a big, gloved hand on his back. With this, he tried to prompt him to leave the lab. They could still try to simply walk out of it, side by side and close the door, couldn't they?

He watched him, a little scared to see him approach, afraid that he might even hurt him. His voice stern, but not as angered as before, a different weight to it. The boy took a few steps back, eyes locked on his father. He then felt a big palm on his back, almost trying to push him towards the exit. No, he had come this far! He couldn't give up now! With absolutely no holding back, he shoved Quirin away from him, or rather, pushed himself away from his father, the man barely affected by the young alchemist. "No!" he shouted. "No, dad, you are wrong! This is my lab, it- it's a part of me! Who I am! Wha-... When where you planning to tell me?!" he shouted at him, shaking. He couldn't believe Quirin would do such a thing. Or rather, he did, he simply didn't want to. Was his own father really that ashamed of his son this whole time, that if he had the opportunity to change him, he'd take it without second thought? 

Quirin's eyebrows shot up, as two tiny hands pushed against his chest and the child started to oppose and counter, with an angry and demanding voice. This was nothing like the calm and obedient Varian he had experienced the last days, no, this illusion was wiped away. Right in front of him was the old, stubborn Varian who demanded to throw himself in danger, even dressed like his old self, a thing Quirin had tried to change so desperately. But this had been a failed attempt, the thin layer of lies and adapted truths was broken, peeled off like old paint and the true Varian was revealed, Varian the alchemist. Of course he was upset, of course he was, his own father had lied to him. Still Quirin couldn't allow himself to lose this argument, all his attempts would have been useless if he did. His jaw had tightened while listening to Varian's words, as well as his whole form. He forced himself to relax again, to slowly open up his fists that had formed all on their own, while he had stiffened up. He managed it eventually, followed by a deep sigh. "Varian." His expression had turned softer, his eyes were searching for his son's, he tried to let him understand. "I would have told you, once you had been old enough. Remember, I said you can start with it, once you have a mentor. This here... this is dangerous. You can't mess with it without knowledge."

Varian shook his head, looking into his father's face, the utter betrayal in his eyes making them glassy and restless, looking to see if he was wrong, himself. "But I do have the knowledge! A-And that's not even the point! This! This is my life, dad! It's part of me! Just... Just what makes you think you could simply take it all away?!" his voice wavered, shook with every word, his heart breaking piece by piece as the realisations settled in. But this wasn't the last of it. 

"Varian, son, you don't have the knowledge." Quirin pinched the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed deeply. This whole conversation was about to blow up. He needed to bring in more reasons. "You didn't even know your own name. There had been nothing left... you can't tell me that you forgot your name, but would remember details of handling alchemy, tiny but very important details. No, I'm sure you can not. Believe me son, it was all for your best."

"My best- Dad! You left me to wonder and trying to figure out why people hated me as much as they did! You- You weren't honest with me when I needed it the most! No! You instead tried to hide this from me, to change me, to take out the bits you always hated about me, didn't you?!" he yelled, he had teared up for good, now. Wouldn't be long before the tears would overflow and run down his cheeks. But he held them back, his hands into tight fists. 

Quirin gasped at this outburst of emotion. "No! No, I don't hate you, son, no, not in the slightest." The last thing he had wanted to achieve was Varian getting the feeling he wasn't loved. "Varian, I will never hate you. Never. All I did was to keep you safe. This... this alchemy!" He gestured slowly through the room. "It is too dangerous for a child. I... I simply don't want to lose you." His expression saddened, his mind replayed all the times he had feared for Varian's life. He had just tried to protect him, right? He was guilty for lying, but it was only to keep everyone safe!

The anger in Varian may have faded, but all he was left with, was an echoing emptiness. Another fear that he mistook as a truth, now settling in his heart, misty eyes trying to look at his father with what little composure he had left. "Why don't you just say it how it is, dad?... You are ashamed of me, aren't you? Always have been." he shook his head, voice trembling as a tear run down his face. "I get it, I'm a failure of a son and a disappointment, but... everything I ever did was for you... I- I thought..." a sob cut him off, his gloved hand pressed on his temple and keeping his bangs out of his eyes as he tried to continue, eyes trailing the floor. "I don't blame you for wanting another son, but to try change me like that... when I needed to know who I was-" he couldn't take it, his father, the last person he had left to trust, had lied to him, hidden away the most important thing in Varian's life up to this point, all he had left to brag about, to be proud of. And the person he loved the most in the world, had chosen to lock it away. 

His head shook slightly while he responded, eyes locked onto Varian's, looking as honest and sincere as he could be. "Varian. This is not true. I never said that. And I never thought that." He kept the eye contact a little longer, he hoped so much the child would understand. In the end, he sighed and his gaze softened, like he would make a peace offer after this whole mess. "Come on, let's get out of here." His voice was quiet and collected as he stepped closer, reaching out to ruffle Varian's hair, an attempt to ease this whole tension that had built up.

"No!" he shouted, slapping his hand away, himself taking a step or two back, looking at the man as if he truly were a stranger, even though his memory of his true identity, did not fail him. "How could you do this to me?! I trusted you!" he couldn't calm himself anymore. This was far from what he expected to find when he said he wanted answers. Instead of answers, he uncovered a whole new conspiracy, a plan created by his father to use the memory loss to his own advantage. No more destruction and damage and disappointment. Just his perfect, little son, obedient and careful and never taking a single risk in his life, never reaching further than the father judged as acceptable. Never pursuing his passion or dreams, again. Never truly be Varian, again.

The sudden shriek let Quirin flinch, his hand now hovering uselessly midair after the harsh rejection. Varian had always tended to be very emotional, but this was too much. He acted like Quirin had utterly betrayed him. How often should he explain to him that it had been doing so, only to protect him? The father huffed annoyed, not grasping how hurt his child really was. To him, the boy simply made a big drama out of it, like children often do. Combined with his mind, probably getting worse and worse by the second. This needed to stop! "Son." He didn't had to raise his voice to let it sound commanding. "This is enough - calm down."

He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, his eyes getting hotter, more tears forming in the corners of his vision. How dare he act like he was being unreasonable. But of course, he was just trying to erase the old Varian, keep only a shell of what he was. "You never really loved me for who I am... that's why you tried to change me... I bet- no- I know that if it were up to you, you would have never let me be myself, again! Because- Because you hate me!" he yelled, hitting his palm on his chest, grabbing his shirt, over his heart. 

These accusations hurt Quirin, more than Varian could imagine. He loved him so much, he was his only family, his son, the one who mattered the most to him. He pressed his lips together, while he stopped breathing for a moment, feeling how his chest tightened more and more, until he finally drew in a deep breath through the nose. "Varian." His voice was weaker than before, maybe a little tired of this argument or too hurt to keep up the authority. "Please stop. This... all you said just now... is not true. And you know this."

"But do I know it, dad?! Do I? Or is this just you trying to cover the facts you don't like?" he looked at him, now some anger evident in the pale blue eyes. "You just wanted a perfect son and you found a way to get it. You didn't ask what I wanted! How I felt! All you cared about was what you wanted me to be! Because you do hate me! Well, guess what, dad... I-" he began ranting again, ready to throw his strongest hit yet. "I hate you!" he declared and stormed out of the room, before Quirin could see the streaming tears down his face, a waterfall of anger and regret down his cheeks. He rushed to his room, closing the door, hiding there. It was the only other place he could think of at that moment.

The final blow pierced right through Quirin's heart, this was the last thing he ever wanted to hear from his son. Had he messed up so badly? His mouth opened without a tone, his throat was like strangled, as he watched with wide eyes how Varian hastened away. His mind needed a moment to process, a second before he hurried to the door frame and stopped there. "Varian!" He saw the boy dashing up the staircase, most probably heading to his room. The father got no actual answer for his call, only a loud bang as the wooden door to the child's room was slammed with full force. "Fine..." Quirin's heart sunk and he felt suddenly tired. There was no use on following the boy now, he would only fall on deaf ears. How could he even think his father would hate him? Hasn't Quirin showed him again and again how important the boy was to him? Apparently not enough, Varian had told him this very loudly. With a heavy heart, he walked over to the kitchen, he would do the dishes now. And laundry. And anything else that should be done. Everything was perfect to distract him from the thoughts and his more and more rising guilt about the disaster with the lab.

With his face buried deep in his pillow, he drowned out the sobs and the whimpers and the screams. It hurt, so damn much. How could his father do this to him. At least the village folk were honest from the start, or at the very least, much earlier, not keeping up some facade about what they knew, not for too long. But not Quirin. He chose to re-write the past as if it wouldn't matter, as if it was nothing important to Varian, insignificant to who his son was before the accident. As if his dreams and wants and passions did not matter in the slightest. Without alchemy, he felt like a nobody. All he had tried being the past few days was the good, obedient son of the village leader who led a simple and mundane life. That wasn't who he is! He wanted to be accepted and be a part of village life and for Quirin to be proud of him... but not like this. Not as if he were some puppet. It was so unfair... He couldn't stand this. Not even in his own house did he feel welcome, anymore, Quirin having revealed his true feelings about the real Varian. Just as he had started remembering, he started feeling lost again. His father didn't love him, never did... And that was plain to him now. Without hesitation, he prepared himself a small satchel, picked up his scarf and with silent steps, exited the house through the front door, silent as he could, rushing out into the snow.

Quirin was totally unaware of Varian's absence. He was fixated on the dishes, the plates clattered in the sink, the pile on the side with used stuff, got smaller rapidly. His face was serious all the time, fighting back the emotions that tried to well up in him. He had to keep calm. He had to fix this somehow. He had to make a decision. He had already made a lot of difficult decisions in his life, still it was a big deal, every time. The rag he used slipped out of his hands, while he steadied himself onto the wooden counter and sighed loudly. Now that Varian knew the truth, how should he continue? Forbid practicing this dangerous hobby? Allow? Go back to the same state before the accident? Quirin shook his head. There had been reasons he had done this. Setting it all back to zero, felt wrong, too. He ignored how wet his hands were due to the dish water and combed through his hair, he was unsure, so unsure what was the best for the boy. His latest guess had been quite a failure.

Varian continued running, no looking back, no stopping, just aimlessly dashing through the white-covered landscapes, hoping to get away from it all. Once again, he was roaming aimlessly, no home, no destination or end goal, just anywhere but here. He didn't want to go back. He had nothing left there. Everyone, including his own father, hated him. Stephan was right, the village would be better off without him! What a joke, to not have realised this, much earlier. As he heaved to breathe, sobs left him, tears continuing to run hot and quickly going cold in the freezing air. Eventually, he stopped, his legs giving in, a nearby tree stopping his fall a bit, as he landed on his knees. His throat had began to hurt. But that didn't matter now. He had to run. And never come back. 

Quirin had finished his work way too early. He walked around in the kitchen, searching desperately for things to do, things like shoving the chair a bit more under the table, just to kill more time. His gaze wandered further around, until it fell onto the sheet with the cookies. Their failed, yet wonderful attempt to bake. The sight let him slightly tear up, finally his feelings were about to be dragged on the outside. But he fought them back with a deep breath, he didn't want to linger too long on the sad mood. This mess wouldn't be solved by shedding tears. Or deafening silence. A new determination flooded through him, gave him enough strength to take action, again. He put some of the cookies in a bowl and walked up the staircase. He wasn't sure what to say yet, but he could at least bring him some cookies, showing the boy he wanted to make up, again. In front of the door, he stopped and knocked, softly. "Varian. I have some cookies with me. Do you want some?" He waited for a response, listening carefully for any sign. But there was no reply. "Varian, please. Talk to me at least." Another couple of seconds in silence, followed. Quirin had waited long enough, his brows were already furrowed, wondering why Varian stayed quiet. The boy had shouted at him and now he turned mute? "Varian, I'm coming in now." The father hasn't planned to retreat yet. He opened the door slowly and searched for the child. But wherever his gaze darted, Varian was nowhere in sight. "Varian?" The father placed the bowl on the nightstand, walking quickly through the room. Nothing. He hurried to the bathroom, maybe he was there. Again nothing. The father rushed further, checking room after room, but every time, it was the same. The castle was empty, Quirin was all on his own. With beating heart, he dashed to the front door, tearing it open, gasping as he saw the almost fresh footsteps, a fifth trail, a trail that shouldn't be here. Varian had left. Ran away. He was gone, all alone in this freezing landscape. Quirin whirled around, hasting to grab his own coat, stumbling further to get a lantern too. He had to hurry! Who knows how long Varian was gone already! It was way too cold to walk for so long around! And had he thought about taking money with him? Where had he even planned to sleep? Quirin's mind raced, as well as his heart. Wherever his son had gone, he had to find him, quickly!

His rest didn't last for too long, when he could have sworn, he heard a rustling nearby, footsteps in the snow. He whirled his head around, looking for the source of the sound. Nothing. Just himself, the snow and the trees. He got up again, his knees freezing, by now. He carried on, to the unknown, the scene familiar. As if he were thrown back to the day of the accident. He wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, when a chilling howl, stopped him at his tracks, freezing, grabbing the strap of his satchel and looking around, alarmed and ready to flee. Then, the rustling again! This time louder, closer. Something approaching. He started to walk again, quickly, back on his invisible and non-existent path. Hoping that whatever was tailing him, would finally leave. 

Quirin hurried along this lonely trail of small footsteps. The snow blanket was deep, even here in the forest, it had snowed so much the last days that the cold white was literally, everywhere. But now it was quite handy for the father, it made the trail clearly visible and easy to follow. His only enemy was time, Varian was maybe an hour ahead, or even more, a long time which would make it difficult to catch up. His hope was that the boy probably, had made breaks or maybe traveled slower than Quirin. He sped up his pace further, made wide steps, easily covering two of Varian's footprints. He had to catch up! The lantern clattered quietly, while he moved. He had brought it with him, just in case he would need to search for him after sunset. Right now, it was still day, plenty of light everywhere, but who knows when he would find him and how long it would take to get home. Home. He would bring his boy home. It shook Quirin deeply that Varian had decided to run away, to leave his home, to leave almost everything behind, even his father. Well, maybe especially his father. The child had run away because of him, his actions had caused this mess. He felt sorry, so sorry. All he had done had been to protect his son, to make his life better. But he only had achieved the opposite, the boy had experienced hellish days and lost his trust in his own father. How foolish he had been! Quirin finally admitted that even his good intentions didn't excuse what he had done. He should have been honest. He should have. There was no way to undo his mistake, but he could try to make up for it. All of a sudden, a howling could be heard, resounding clearly in the cold air. Wolves? He stopped a moment to process the sound, but there was no way he could have mistaken it. His eyes darted to the direction of the source, almost the same where Varian's footprints were leading to. This was bad, very bad, this sound, this howl, it wasn't this far away! His eyes widened as he realized how much he had to hurry. He stumbled forward, heading to a tree which had broken down from the heavy snow, burdening the branches, the white blanket proving heavy enough to break the whole tree. For Quirin it was the perfect opportunity. Quickly, he picked one of the broken branches, thick enough to be used as a weapon. He was more of a sword fighter, but he couldn't be picky here, any weapon was better than fighting off wolves with bare hands. His heart already beat so wildly, that it felt like it would jump out of his rib cage any second. His grip around the makeshift weapon tightened and he started to run as fast as he had never run before. He need to be there in time, he must!

The boy hurried, running like he had never ran before, every single thing, pulling him away from the growls and howl and rustling in the snow, stomping to get closer to him. It was honestly quite the miracle that Varian was still able to run, the threat closing in, however, with every step. He didn't actually see where he headed, his only objective, to get away. It didn't take long till a wolf appeared in front of his path, growling and standing his ground, Varian stopping, staring down at the animal in utter horror. He should have taken his alchemy with him! Then he could have had something to defend himself with. But it wasn't like he had taken his time with running away from home, he just got up and left without a second thought. Only now did he start to regret that decision. He started stepping backwards, only to find he had been surrounded, three or four wolves, closing in on him, the human watching them in a dreaded anticipation. He should have never left home. Now he was just going to be food for the beasts! Quirin might have lied to him and hidden the truth and tried to replace him. Maybe he didn't ever truly love him either! But now... Now he wished he was here, more than anything. 

Quirin arrived almost breathless, he had raced through the white as fast as possible, now fighting over the last rise, before his eyes captured the small frame of his son, a couple of paces away from him. With rising panic, the father noticed the scared expression on the boy's face and he focused on the wolves which had surrounded the child. Four. His grip on the former branch tightened while his feet started to run immediately, rush down to his son while he cried his name, not a second of hesitating or thinking about how to fight them, because all that mattered now was Varian needed his help.

A shrill scream left him when the first wolf jumped at him, pinning him down, grabbing his arm that he had raised to shield himself. His heart raced a million beats per minutes, only to get even louder in his ears when another one grabbed his cape and started pulling on it, two more of the wolves growling and cheering. It was almost like that day with the village children, except this time, they were literal animals, threatening to bite him and truly hurt him, but with their only goal being survival. This however, didn't matter to Varian. He wanted to live! If only Dad was here! If only he hadn't run away. If only-

Then, from a distance, he heard a voice call his name, a voice he could recall since his earliest day, as far as the human memory could allow. He was here... Varian could have sworn that he teared up at the call of his name. He was saved!

The wolf attacked the arm! Quirin swung his makeshift weapon, while he aimed for the head of this beast, his motions wild and desperate, before he finally slammed it down with all his force. A battle cry left his lips, loud and angry and he saw how the jaw of the wolf opened and released Varian's arm. However, it wasn't over yet. The beaten wolf only yelped shortly, scrambled to get over to the others that had jumped a bit away, due of the sudden noise. They now fixed both humans with bared teeth, growling angrily at them, while they scanned the man who had interfered, judging if he was a threat or another target. Quirin straightened his posture and stepped in front of Varian, thrusting quickly the lantern into the boy's hands. "Stay behind me, son. We'll fight them off." His voice was fast, while his heartbeat raced. His eyes darted between them, trying to predict their movements. There are too many to shield Varian completely. They needed more than a stick to get out of here. "Try to light the lantern. Are there any other branches close? Try to light one of them. Flames or smoke, both is good." Once he finished the hurried instructions, he started to shout and implied attacks, an attempt to scare them off.

Varian hugged his hand, as soon as it was freed from the jaws of the animal. Without wasting any time, his eyes searched for his father, a towering figure right in front of him, the man facing the wolves as he stood between them and his child. Before he could say anything, his father turned and handed him the lantern, giving him a task as if to distract from their current situation. Varian blinked a few times, too lost and shocked and shaken to think any faster. He shook his head and pushed himself up, crawling to grab some small sticks around him, digging them out of the snow. With hurried movements, he turned the valve of the lantern, igniting a small flame in it, then put the sticks over the fire, trying to light them. His back was facing Quirin's, eyes stuck on the light. "Come on, come on..." he murmured, a wolf in front of him letting out a growling bark, startling him, the lamp nearly falling off of his shaking hands. 

Quirin reacted immediately to the threat, he turned a bit to stare at the wolf and contered loudly, shouted at the top of his lungs. "Stay back!" The moment he gazed over his shoulder, the other wolves were out of his view, an unfortunate circumstance for Quirin, but the perfect opportunity for the animals. One of them dashed forward, almost jumping at Quirin to reach a vital point. It was a matter of split-seconds, blank teeth, an open mouth and a deep growl met bark, the father had seen the movement out of the corner of his eyes and had moved the stick just far enough to block the attack. Now, the wolf had bitten into the wood, denying for a moment to let go. His second hand grabbed the other end of the stick to get more balance, before he shook the beast away with one fast move. Now, the other one rushed forward, trying to snap for his feet. A fast step backwards saved him this time, only hoping his senses weren't this rusty so he would not accidentally step on his son. Luckily he just came close to the child's back and the approaching wolf hurried back after a well aimed hit at his nose. It yelped, almost ready to retreat, but the others haven't given up yet. The smaller human had looked like an easy target, maybe they could get it as a team. They started to walk around the humans, making it more difficult for Quirin to protect his son. The father realized that he would have a hard time now. "Varian! What about the fire?"

"W-working on it!" he replied, sweat running down his forehead. The twigs were damp, not at all ideal for starting a fire. Varian was starting to panic. He had nothing to start a fire with. But he then remembered, in his satchel, there was a book. He hurried to rip a page out with one hand, the strip of paper quickly wrapped around the twigs and he then dipped it in the fire. It was not much, but it was something! "I-I-I made it!" he exclaimed, as if that was all it'll take to save them from this.

Quirin glanced quickly over his shoulder, noticing how small and fragile the twig was, the flame almost fading already. No. This wouldn't work. He had hoped for a bigger flame or enough smoke to scare them away. But this... this would not help at all, only could buy time. His gaze wandered around again, trying to watch all of those beasts. "Okay. Hold this in front of you. The lantern too. Hold them at bay by showing the flames, so they won't attack you. I do the rest." Quirin was not sure how much the tiny flame would achieve, but it was better than nothing. He simply had to work fast to keep the boy safe. The wolves sensed the change of mood in the man, they growled louder and showed more teeth. They knew they had to attack now. The first one stormed right at Quirin, ignoring that the man saw it very well. The stick slammed down precisely onto the nose, stopping it and let it whimper. Why so obvious? Only if- He whirled around and drew a half circle through the air with his weapon, hitting the wolf which had tried to use the moment to attack Varian. They knew exactly Quirin must be distracted to get a grip of the child. "Varian, duck!"

It scared him a bit to give such a command, the boy now smaller and his neck easier to attack, but only this way he could ensure to not hit him accidentally with the long stick. He jumped to the side to block another attack, the wolves now had made up their strategy, speeding up with each attempt, letting Quirin dance around the tiny frame, hit for hit, he fought them back, their target no longer the man but the boy, all their moves were directed to find a gap to bite the kid. Quirin gasped for air, he was not used to fighting anymore, not this long, not this intense. His racing heartbeat made his lungs demanding more air, so much he felt he could never breathe in. He needed to stop their attacks. Immediately. He would never have enough stamina. He cried again on top of his lungs and with deeply furrowed brows, he stopped to defend, this time he attacked, whirling around like a demon, hitting all of those beasts in a row while his eyes shot daggers. It must have been the combination of his wild and gigantic appearance, the screams and angry face as well as the desperate determination that pushed him forward and of course, the amount of hits they had already taken. All of this let the wolves finally freeze, reconsidering and eventually retreating. This skinny target wasn't worth the risk of more hits. They hurried away as fast as they had appeared, vanished into the woods like shadows. Quirin stared some seconds at the direction they had left in, until he was sure they were really gone. The next second he rushed to his son, two steps away, hunching over while looking down to the small boy. "Varian..." He gasped for air. "Are you... okay?"

Varian looked at Quirin confused, listening to his instructions. What did he mean by 'I do the rest'? He didn't stay in his thoughts for too long, however, when his father ordered him, loud and clear to duck down, look for cover. His blood froze, but he listened to Quirin, quickly falling to the ground and curling up, his arms covering his head. He could no longer see. Only the frozen ground and sounds of things colliding and cries of discomfort and pain, as well as screams that demanded the wolves to leave. He wasn't sure for how long this went on. Last thing he knew, the noise stopped and only his father's voice, tired and breathless, could be heard. Varian still shook, peeking out of his make-shift hideout, heart still racing a million miles per minute. He pushed himself up, nodding. "I-I think so... You?" he asked, guiltily, knowing all too well that this was his fault, that he owed Quirin a big apology and that if his father hadn't come find him... 

"I'm so glad." Quirin fell to his knees and embraced his child, tightly. He didn't care about their former argument right now. About that, they had to talk, very badly. But not yet. All he wanted to do now, was hold him close, just for some heartbeats, to make sure this was no dream, no illusion. Although, he still was gasping for air, a smile formed on his lips. He had found him again.

The gesture, almost made Varian retreat, but he was captured in the hug, before he could escape. He stood still, a bit lost. What was he meant to do? Just a half hour or so ago, they had argued, he had discovered Quirin's lie, he had told him he hated him. And yet, here he was, he saved his life, fought wolves for him and all he could say to Varian was that he was glad to see he was unharmed, hugging him with all his might, as if it were some reunion, after many years apart. Not scolding him for leaving, or bringing up any of his son's hurtful words against him, just relieved to have him back. Varian thought all of that, something finally, snapping in him. The idea that his father had kept truth from him out of spite, at last, breaking and shattering and leaving his mind. He reached out to hold onto him, embrace him as much as his arms would allow him, nearly all of him, still lost in Quirin's arms. Pressing his forehead on his father's chest, he felt his eyes watering, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the man's coat. In the silence, a small voice was heard, cracked and remorseful. "I'm sorry."

The quiet sorry reached the man's ears and he squeezed his son a moment long, even tighter. His expression went a bit more serious, he knew now, how much of a mistake he had made. "I'm sorry, too." With gentle moves, he brushed over the black streaks. "I wanted to protect you, but I went too far. I should have been honest." A deep breath followed and he pressed his eyelids shut, stopping the motion for a moment, to just hold him close. "I didn't want to lose you. You are my son, my only family. I'm so sorry, I hurt you."

"A-and I'm sorry I yelled at you! And said what I said- I..." he searched for the words, trying to wipe his eyes, still in his father's embrace, the man, presumably too afraid to let go. "I don't hate you! Not at all! I-" a sob stopped him. But either way, he had run out of words. What was he meant to say? His father had lied to him, tried to keep from him a very important part of who his real son, who the real Varian, was. It still hurt that he had tried to replace him with a shell of himself. But he couldn't help but feel bad. Quirin had searched for him, fought those beasts for him, couldn't care less about what would happen to himself, so long as his child made it out of there, unharmed. He couldn't simply ignore that fact. He was a fool to think that his father couldn't possibly love him. To forget one of the very first things he ever got to learn. That Dad will always love him, no matter what. 

He had assumed all this time, that Varian had simply shouted it out of anger, hoped that, in the end, they could fix it. Hearing it now from the child, with his own ears, felt relieving, it was like a huge burden was lifted off his back. "I'm glad. So glad." One last time, he stroked over Varian's hair, before he drew away and searched for his son's eyes. They were reddish from all the tears, just like his cheeks and nose. It looked like he had, not only cried now, but also for a long time, far before the wolves had even appeared. The father's brows furrowed, at the thought of how long Varian must have walked, crying, through this cold and lonely forest. His heart ached at the very idea the boy had felt urged to run away, because of his father's decisions. This was not right. He didn't meant to achieve something like that! And if alchemy was really the thing he couldn't live without... Quirin knew he would forever love him. No matter if Varian would become chief of the village or a farmer or even an alchemist. As long as he was happy. Quirin reached out and cupped one of the child's cheeks with his hand. His voice was calm, nothing demanding in it. He just wanted to know. An honest and true answer. "And you really sure you don't want to wait a bit, before practicing alchemy?"

Varian looked back at him, eyes a little lost, finally finding home in his father's brown eyes, hiding behind the thin layer of sorrow. He listened to him speak, feeling how his thumb brushed his cheek, wiping away a tear or two. The question was phrased a little oddly however. He brought up alchemy again, but not at all forbidding it, demanding that he'd put it off for later in his life. No, he was asking how Varian felt. What he wanted. Now, he was certain that his father was only worried. Granted, it's not like Varian had not given him a reason to be so, but at least now, Quirin seemed to understand how important it was to him. Maybe this time, he could even show him that he'd be more careful! Make him understand what was happening in his lab and in his mind. Finally have his attention for long enough, to show him that there was nothing to be afraid of. "Well, it's not like I have a lot of other things to do or places to be... Besides. It makes me happy, dad. To find and make things and understanding the world around us. It-... It's all I have."

Varian answered clearly, it showed Quirin how much alchemy meant to his son. The father had watched him closely, the blue eyes were honest, it was how the child really felt. It was important and Quirin had to admit he should have known, the boy had lost his memory and still, his hobby had resurfaced every now and then, tried to break through the layer of ice that the accident had created around his mind. And it had come back, despite all the lies. Quirin nodded understandingly. His eyes had softened, he wouldn't fight against his son's interests, anymore. "I see." Varian wanted to work with alchemy again. Now, not later. The father wanted to allow it, yet his former fears were still there. He didn't want to see the child in another mess, another accident, running to a burning house or a ruin covered in smoke. He didn't want Varian in something like that again, and the only thing that came to his mind was supervision. Someone should guide him, look after him. But he didn't know any alchemist or anyone with witchcraft or any other field which could be close to what Varian used to do. But what should he do instead? He pondered over the question a bit, his gaze wandering over the child's face, restless, in thoughts. Until he realized something. He had searched for things he could do, but the answer was already within the question. He could do something. He could help. He may have not had much knowledge in alchemy, but he could probably prevent accidents. Or at least, he would be close enough to save the child faster. He could teach him to be more careful. Quirin should have done this all along, but he had been busy with his other responsibilities and he had somehow hoped the boy would learn by himself. And on top of that, the old Varian seldom listened to him anyway. But now, it was different and at the moment the perfect season, winter, the part of the year he had the most time. It was now or never. "Alright. I will not forbid it anymore... but..." He looked Varian deep in the eyes, stressing the most important part. "I want to be with you when you do experiments. No working alone. Could I count on you?"

The boy lit up when Quirin said he wouldn't forbid it, any longer, but the smile dropped a little however, holding his breath as he left his sentence unfinished for a moment, looking at him intensely. In the end, all Quirin asked for was to be present. To be there. As if Varian didn't need to ask for his attention any longer! He looked at him, a little dumbfounded at first, but quickly replied confidently, more than he had been in the past few days. "Yes, sir!" he chuckled, his eyes tearing up a little as he threw himself at Quirin again, holding tightly onto him. "Thank, you." he breathed out. At that moment, he had not thought that Quirin would often need to leave, to tend to the village. All he heard was 'more time to spend with dad, all while doing alchemy, no less'. It couldn't be more perfect. Then, a cold wind brushed them by, send a chill down the boy's spine, his knees still in the snow.

The reaction warmed Quirin's heart, the joyful chuckling, the thing he had seeked all the time, since the accident. Two small arms embraced him, as tightly as they could, this time not out of fear or guilt, but pure happiness. Quirin couldn't help but smile, wide and with all his heart. His hands rested on the child's back, only gingerly, yet he noticed the short shiver that shook the child. "Are you cold?" He looked down a bit worried.

Varian let out a shivering breath, a small smoke cloud leaving his lips as he spoke again. "A-A little." he replied, looking up at him. His knees had began becoming wet with snow, the two of them still hugging kneeling down. The cold was really starting to get through to him, now that there were no distractions.

Quirin saw his lips shaking slightly, an alarming sign. He drew away and raised to his feet, reaching out to lend Varian a helping hand. "We should better go, then."

Trembling, he nodded, standing up on his own now, hugging himself to keep warm. He could only hope their home was not too far from where they were, the cold becoming less than comfortable, now.

Varian shook, like a leaf in the wind. The boy hadn't gone straight away from home, instead took many curves during his attempt to run away. They could now take a shorter way, but still, the castle was anything but close. And it was not sure if the skinny child could warm himself up, while walking. Quirin on the other hand was heated, the fight had warmed him up perfectly, maybe even too much. It should be easy to warm the boy up too. "Varian, you are shaking. I'll carry you a bit, I don't want you to catch a cold." Or worse. The father stepped closer, not waiting for a response, swiftly scooping up the boy, holding him close to his chest. The edges of the cape fell a bit over the small form, shielding some parts from the wind.

Before he could respond, he was picked up, held closely by Quirin. "Dad! Put me down!... I'm not a baby." he pouted, a little offended and abashed. He only wanted to help, but he was a big boy now! He didn't need to be picked up and carried around! Even though it has happened quite a few times in the past, Varian not being awake enough to notice. Still, he didn't push Quirin away too much, a little scared of falling off. Plus, he didn't want to fight him, not after they had just reconciled. 

"But you freeze on your own. It's just until you are warmed up. It has nothing to do with being a baby." Quirin insisted on carrying him, he wouldn't risk something which could be easily prevented. He searched for the lantern and Varian's satchel and spotted them only some steps away. The father walked over and bowed down a little, picking the items up, without letting the boy down. The things were not heavy at all, he would even be able to carry everything to the castle, even if he was already exhausted. With determined steps, he started to walk with a medium pace, holding Varian as warm as he could, while the snow crunched under his feet with every move. They had survived the attack of the wolves and Quirin hadn't planned to give in and lose to the cold.

Varian simply sighed. He didn't want to admit, but he liked the warmth, no longer shivering as much. But he also saw, how Quirin had to carry everything, himself becoming a burden, without wanting to. He only took a minute or so, until he felt a little warmer. "Okay, I'm fine. Now, let me help you." he said, trying to free himself to encourage Quirin to let him go. 

"Well." Quirin couldn't argue against that, he could only hope Varian would tell the truth. He had already experienced what would happen if the boy started to struggle and he didn't want him to probably fall down and get covered with even more snow. So the father put him carefully down, making sure the boy's feet stood firm on the ground, before letting go. He scanned him from head to toe, searching if there really was no sign the child would freeze. In the end, he came to the conclusion that it should be okay. "Alright. But tell me as soon as you get cold again, even if it's just your hands or feet." His gaze had a hint of pleading in it, hoping the child would not stay stubborn because of false pride. Hypothermia was serious and would come subtle. Nevertheless, Quirin would keep an eye on the boy. Finally, the man made a small gesture with his hands. "Let's go, then." He started to lead the way, but let Varian walk next to him. The cold, the wolves, all these things made it unsafe here, so he felt better with having his son right in view.

The boy simply walked next to him, without complaining, even if he was cold and tired and emotionally drained, but at the very least, they were going home. They had reconciled, no more fear or doubt between them. The danger long gone. It really scared him, thinking what could have been if Quirin had not showed up. But his father did come to his aid, didn't leave him behind. And that reassured him so much. Truly proving to him that his father cared, and the fact that he recognised how much alchemy meant to him, only helped prove it further. They could do this right, this time. This time, they both understood. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sledging accident, Varian lost his memory, completely.  
> When Quirin found him like this, it became clear that it wouldn't be an easy task to awaken his memories again, that is if the boy really should remember everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction is a collaboration with nyxglitch on tumblr (https://nyxglitch.tumblr.com/)! It is an rp, that's why the passages will switch the points of view.

The walk back was quiet, both of them in thoughts. But it was for the better, they concentrated on getting home fast, it was cold and it would soon get dark, too. Quirin had watched Varian all the time, but he hadn't noticed something alarming, a thing that reassured him, a bit. Now, the castle was already in sight, the silhouette like an island in a sea of snow. A smile spread on his lips, it was always a good feeling to come home, but this time it felt even better. "We are almost there." He turned to Varian, searching if he was also relieved. Not long ago, he had left from here, with the intention to never come back. Did the castle still feel like a home for him?

Admittedly, it felt a little odd coming back, already. Especially after he had made up his mind so easily, no plans to come back. It was almost baffling how his mind had changed. And all it took was putting himself and Quirin in danger. He wasn't proud of that, not at all. But he couldn't be more glad that Quirin did come after him. And was now bringing him home. He wanted him back! Back to the very first place he had ever called home. Back with Quirin. By now, he was certain of it, that this towering building ahead of them, was where he belonged. Varian simply hummed in agreement and followed him, eagerly walking to the house, looking forward to get into the warmth, again.

Although it was very subtle, Quirin thought Varian looked happy. The child hurried with him over the snow-covered meadow, both could use some warmth, Varian especially. But Quirin also felt the cold in his face, the wind had become stronger the last minutes, cooling down his skin rapidly. His hands finally, grabbed for the handle on the door, it felt like he had reached the finish line of some kind of marathon. _They were home._ He let Varian step in first, to bring the kid as fast as possible, out of the cold. "Just take off your shoes and head straight to the fireplace. You can take off the rest of the winter clothes there." In the meantime, he closed the front door quickly, he shouldn't let too much warmth escape. The fire was most probably still smoldering, he just needed to feed it with logs. The father remembered there hasn't been much wood left in the living room. "I'll follow soon, first I will go to get some more logs."

Varian stepped into the house quickly, a shivering sound leaving him, the slight warmth of the house, already a stark contrast to the outside world. He hurried to take off the cloak, weighing him down too much, by this point. It felt great to be able to move again, no scarves and heavy coats getting in the way. As soon as he got rid of the stuffy coat, he realised he was still wearing the apron and the gloves, the goggles also still on his head. Not that it bothered him. If anything, he was too used to them to be surprised by their presence. He went to the fireplace, just as Quirin asked, replying with a slightly timid 'okay', not really thinking of what his father said. He just took off his boots and grabbed a throw-blanket from the sofa, proceeding to get wrapped up in it and curl up, next to the fire. In Quirin's absence, he eyed the lab door, still open, no longer locked, just like his memory, no longer hidden behind some barrier. Quirin may have apologised and allowed him to do alchemy, again. But the fact of the matter, that he was willing to sacrifice such a big part of him, without a second thought. It hurt. It hurt to know it. He simply sighed and rested his chin on his knees, hugging his legs, eyes on the dancing flames.

It didn't take long until Quirin stepped in, with his arms full of wood. This amount would suffice for tonight, for sure. He saw his son curled up in front of the fire, a small ball in this big room, lost in thoughts or daydreaming, it couldn't be told for certain. "I'm back." Quirin didn't want to startle him, the noise that followed while letting the logs fall into the basket, was loud. He picked two of them up again and put them into the fire. Now, he could finally sit down, too. With a pleased sigh, he sunk down to the pillow, close to his son. Some seconds long, he simply glanced over to the child, a silence spreading between them. Quirin's gaze wandered over the boy, as if he needed to check if he was okay. Varian had told him he was unharmed, something the father wanted to believe with all his might, yet he wanted to check on his own if it was really true. "How do you feel? Does anything hurt?" His gaze was attentive and loving, already scanning if there was something he could do. And then he remembered the attack of the wolves. "May I... take a look at your arm?"

He nearly flinched at the sound of the logs crashing on the floor, but eased rather quickly, back to his thoughts, his father walking over to sit next to him. He only looked at him, once he spoke to him, taking a second to think about his answer, even though a 'no' wanted to quickly leave him. He didn't have time to answer however, Quirin asking about his arm. Come to think of it, it did hurt a bit, but nothing that major that he wouldn't forget about it after a long walk. His eyes went to his arm, part of it, still covered by the glove. He slipped it out and nearly winced at the sight. His whole arm was bruised, the layers only having managed to stop so much. Shades of purple and green had spread on his skin, only now remembering how it had hurt. Thankfully, it wasn't anything more serious.

Quirin's eyes widened at the color and he took Varian's hand gingerly, careful not to touch any part of the bruised skin. He prompted the arm carefully to turn a bit in each direction, making sure the boy was not bitten. The bruise was most probably hurtful, but still, Quirin was relieved Varian had no further injuries there. "I'm glad the glove protected you this well." His gaze wandered to the boy's face. "If it still hurts a lot, we could cool it a bit." There was not much Quirin could do with this kind of injury. It would just take time. In this case, Varian could decide what to do, depending on how well he felt.

The boy didn't dare touch his arm, the sight making him keep his eyes away. But it didn't hurt that badly, just a numb irritation, only present when he focused on it. He gulped, taking a look at it, at last. "No, I think it's fine..." he said, his voice a little uncertain, yet he didn't mean it to sound this way. He didn't see any reason to put any ice on it, even though it had helped him when his nose took that hit. Besides, he wanted to talk to Quirin a little.

"Alright." Quirin let go of the hand and leaned a bit back. The wolves had attacked a moment after his arrival and he couldn't recall any other places they had tried to bite the child. And the father was more than glad it ended just with a bruise. Next thing to think of has been the low temperature, yet the fingers of the child haven't felt too cold. But what about the toes? Varian was still curled up, hasn't moved or stretched so far. With a soft voice, he reminded him. "And don't forget to warm up your feet and hands." At the moment, the most important thing for Quirin was that Varian stayed healthy. He didn't even had the idea there would be further talk necessary.

He simply nodded, avoiding to look at him for a moment now, stretching his hands to the warmth. He remained quiet for a moment, waiting to see if the man had any more words to say. But once he confirmed that he didn't have such plans, he took in a breath and turned to him. "Did you prefer the new me?" he said, genuinely curious, not angry or bitter at his father, just a child wanting to hear the truth from his parent.

"I..." The question hit Quirin absolutely off-guard, he hadn't expected Varian wanted to talk about this emotional theme, after he had given his permission. He looked away, lost, onto the flames, buying himself time to process the question. And to sort out for himself, first. Had he really preferred the 'new' son? Sometimes, he maybe really had. But at other occasions... His gaze had turned thoughtful, while looking away, but now, he turned back to Varian and he had made up his mind. "I preferred him whenever he was happy. You haven't baked for a long time, but it had been great to do so. The way you treated the raccoon, made me happy. Your older self would have done this, too, but you would have never found him, you were almost every day in the lab. I... wanted for you to see more... than the basement. So I _was_ happy whenever you experienced something nice and new. But... the bad things happened too, and I felt sorry." His gaze went down to the floor, while he furrowed his brows, guilty for having caused such horrible situations. He breathed in deeply, trying to focus again on what Varian really wanted to know. "It... to answer your question... it was more the idea to keep you safe, than preferring a version of you. Like I said... those liquids and things are dangerous and yes, I had preferred seeing you far away from those. But... if this means you couldn't feel like yourself, then I won't take this away from you, any longer." This was the way Quirin had felt. But would Varian understand? Almost a bit nervous, he searched for his son's eyes, hoping the child wouldn't get upset or blame him. The atmosphere had been peaceful, but it could change every second.

He listened carefully, catching every word and every second of silent thinking the man needed. This was clearly not a simple 'yes or no' question. Varian was somewhat thankful that this was the case. If his father had said 'yes, I prefer the new you', Varian would have been a bit devastated, but if Quirin replied 'no', it would have confused him even more. The more detailed answer, was the better option. From his words, he could understand that Quirin just wanted him to do more things than just hang out around harmful chemicals. He understood his concern and he had to admit, he did enjoy the activities that didn't have to involve alchemy, like baking or helping Quirin outside. But he was more than relieved to hear that his father wouldn't want to keep his love for alchemy away from him, anymore. That he seemed to finally understand, what it meant for Varian. He smiled a little, knowing that Quirin was alright with Varian doing what he loved the most. "I'll be more careful, then." he finally looked at him, trying to reassure him.

Quirin wasn't sure if he could rely on Varian's word, the boy had proven more than often, that he tended to do risky things. Yet, alone the fact that Varian had announced to be more careful, made the father light up, it had been honest and not while the child repeated Quirin's instructions half-hearted. Varian meant it and this was a first, important step. "I hope so!" The father reached out and ruffled his hair, his voice a bit playful. He was glad it had turned out well, that they had found each other again. That Varian understood and tried to learn. And this time Quirin would teach him well, no more hoping the boy would simply stop or learn on his own.

Varian chuckled at the gesture, his father’s hand messing his bangs and his goggles. He was smiling at him, warm and genuine. They could fix this. They were already on their way. He was confident that he could be more careful in the future, that he would succeed at making sure he carried through with his promise. He finally sighed and turned to the flames again. All weights being lifted off his shoulders at last. Already, he wanted to go back to his lab, continue what he left unfinished, maybe even start a new project, the raccoon having given him a few ideas. But he could let it wait for once. Just enjoy this scene as himself, not the lost boy with very few memories. He remained quiet. Until he finally had enough of the silence, a couple of minutes later. "So, what are we gonna do tomorrow?"

For a while, only the crackling of the fire could be heard, both just enjoying the moment. Quirin still thought about Varian's chuckling or how he had embraced him after Quirin had given his permission. Now it finally felt like the right thing, this time his decision was not built up with logic, but rather by heart. He didn't had to convince himself anymore. Convince himself that Varian would someday understand his motives. He didn't have to hide the lab anymore or bend the truth until it fit into his story. It was relieving and it felt like he could even breathe more freely. All they could do now was moving on, enhancing their lives together, not alone, not like a hidden mission. This time, like a real family. Quirin had smiled softly, while being in thoughts, watching the flames dance and feeling the warmth on his skin. As Varian's voice reached his ear, he turned his head, processing the question first. It was a little wonder Varian still asked what their plans could be, instead of demanding to do alchemy. Also something else had returned, the 'we' was back in his question, a simple word that showed so much. His gaze softened, while he answered. "I thought we could start tomorrow with looking through your lab. You have a lot of things there and I have to admit I'm not sure what all of this is. Some things are unfinished too. So I thought we investigate everything before working at an unknown place."

The boy looked at him, dumbfounded. Was his father suggesting that Varian would navigate him through the lab, show him his work? Spend time with him while showing him his favourite hobby?! Being allowed to do alchemy freely, was one thing, this, he could have never expected, not in a million years. "Wh-what are you saying?" he asked, seriously believing that he had heard something wrong. How was it possible that Quirin's schedule was again, not about the village and only work regarding his leader duties? Was he truly saying that he had time for his son's 'silly shenanigans'?

Varian looked at him like his father had said it would rain sweets outside. It was an expression of disbelief, but combined with a small hint of hope in it, hoping it could still be true. Quirin almost let out a chuckle, it reminded him so much on former days, Varian had often looked like this, if he had told him surprising, good news. And now, this face was back, the blue eyes searching for confirmation, the gaze directed in anticipation at his father, waiting he would say it again. It was a pleasure to do so. "Well, tomorrow there is nothing urgent, just a small round through the village and maybe, I should do the laundry at last, but beside this, I figured we could start tomorrow. Slowly of course." A tiny bit of it, was also because, Quirin knew exactly how impatient Varian was. Once his mind had ideas, it was barely possible to stop him. So the father decided to offer an option to start very soon, unless he wanted to stretch his son's patience at the very beginning.

He couldn't help but smile widely at that. His father wanted to be involved in his hobby. It almost felt like a lie, but he didn't want it to be! He could trust him to keep his word. He was sure! And Varian could prove to him how he was gonna be more careful, that Quirin had nothing to fear! "Really?! Ha!" he exclaimed and almost did a small victory dance, containing his joy with difficulty. Oh, what should their first project be? Something useful and not dangerous, for sure, something practical with a day-to-day life use. The raccoon came to mind. That was it! "I think I also already know what we can work on! Hopefully, I got everything I need, even thought I'm gonna need to plan this first. And we can do experiments together and test stuff out and it's gonna be great!" he rambled, looking at Quirin with so much excitement, so unbelievably stoked to think of tomorrow. His father could finally see him being serious and cautious, he'd be so proud!

Varian was unbelievably happy, he beamed at his father, fists up at his chest, as a gesture of victory and Quirin saw how he held himself back to not jump up in joy. It was adorable to watch, Varian acted like a little child again, caught up in an overwhelming happiness. Quirin didn't mind. More so, he was glad, the kid could make plans for tomorrow, looking forward to this day. It was probably the first time since the accident he would have interesting plans for the upcoming day. The father nodded to the child, a genuine smile on his face. Only one thing was a bit odd... Varian already had a new invention in mind. This fast? Had he already thought about it way before he found the lab? His gaze turned interested. "You already have an idea?"

The alchemist turned to him, nodding. "Aha! Remember how the little raccoon got caught in that trap? That is no way to treat small fellas like him! It hurts them unnecessarily. But! I might have a few ideas on how we can solve this." he replied, excited to get working again, to get back to his lab and do plans and calculate and scheme!

Quirin listened what Varian had inspired and it was a good and thoughtful idea, at first glance. The father just needed to make sure that they wouldn't hurry and test everything carefully. "Oh! Sounds like a plan. You are right, other, less harmful traps would be great." He nodded and watched the glistening in the blue eyes. Maybe the boy already, worked on more details in his mind or imagined all the animals which would stay safe.

He was more than glad that Quirin agreed with the idea. They could do so much good, he could finally show them all that he was not that bad! And he could even keep his friend- the raccoon, safe, without keeping hims cooped up in the house. It should work. They could do this, he was sure. And Quirin would see, that alchemy was nothing to fear. He could do this. They could do this. "Maybe something less sharp and snappy. Something... sticky? Yeah, keeping the animal in place, but without hurting it."

"Something sticky? Like glue?" The man gave it some thought, it wasn't too bad. But then, on the other hand, he remembered very well how glue felt on skin, on hair too. And those critter had a lot of hair. No, this couldn't work. "Varian, don't you think if it is sticky enough to keep them in place, it would stay into the fur too? All their hair would be glued together."

Varian gave a look of realisation. "Oh... I didn't think of that. Maybe a substance that isn't exactly like glue, maybe doesn't solidify like glue, more liquid but durable..." he monologued, trying to remember if he knew such a thing. Maybe he was simply tired. He had only remembered about alchemy, just this morning after all. Not everything was back, entirely, it seemed.

The boy's mood dropped a bit, not entirely, but still. Quirin didn't mean to discourage him, but it almost looked like that. "I'm sure you will find a solution. It just will take some time."

"Yeah, I know. Alchemy does tend to be time consuming." he sighed and laughed at the end, almost as if he was trying to justify himself for all the other times he had locked himself in his lab for hours, days or even weeks. He certainly had a time management problem. He wasn't sure how it could change now that Quirin was going to be more involved. Or even, for how long it would last. He could only hope his father would allow him enough time in the day to work on things and make good progress.

Quirin nodded. "I see. Well, we will get there in the end." Inventing stuff was a new field for the man, although he had experience with problem solving. Most important thing, was to go through possibilities and check if they could work or what could go wrong. Yet, it always had been simple things, nothing with completely new substances. This knowledge was nothing he had gained, yet. "You can think about solutions, while I do village duties and once I'll be back, we can talk about them and try things out. What do you think?"

'We will get there.'. The phrase sounded so great to him, Quirin already counting them as a team, not just 'You will get there', on his own. No, they were working together now. "Sounds like a plan." he replied and turned back to the flames again. It would take a while until they could actually work on something, Varian having to think of calculations and other theoretical things, before they could try anything out. While Quirin brought up the village, however, he was also reminded of the other children, and how they had behaved and treated him, the other day. Had Quirin said anything about it, yet? Or was he going to let it slip? Varian was a little reluctant to ask, not wanting to make Quirin feel like he wasn't doing enough. As long as Varian stayed home, it shouldn't be a problem, again, anyway.

Varian fell silent, maybe in thoughts. Quirin looked back at the fire, it had warmed them up very well, at least the father felt warm and cozy enough to sense how his stomach started to demand food. The running and stress and of course, the fight had drained him. He didn't even feel much like cooking, it should better go fast without long preparation. He climbed to his feet and spoke up. "I will make some sandwiches. Are you hungry too?"

"Hm? Oh- Yeah, I'm a bit hungry." he said, finally, snapping out of his thoughts. He didn't exactly have a good breakfast. The events with the raccoon having blocked his appetite that morning. And now, he could finally enjoy a good meal, no sorrows or worries to cloud his mind."Want me to help?"

"Do you feel, already better? Are you not cold? Keep in mind, the kitchen is a lot cooler." Quirin looked at his son a bit worried, the child had been a lot colder, and he shouldn't exhaust himself too much.

Varian nodded with a small smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Don't worry." he got up, the blanket still around his shoulders, forgetting it was there for a moment.

Quirin didn't mention it, the additional layer was perfect to keep the boy warm. He turned around and walked ahead. "Well then, let's look into the storage room. Anything you would love to put on your sandwich?" They walked around the corner, heading further to their goal, until Quirin's eyes caught something. "The door is open?" This was weird, he usually closed it every time he walked out of the room. He sped up a little, walking through the door frame. "Hmmm..." Although he checked with a quick glance, he couldn't see anyone. Was there someone hiding? "Varian, please don't come in. Wait there." Some rustling could be heard, movements. The only relief was it didn't sound like a human, what a luck. Did they have rats? The father looked closer, his big form now bending over some flour bags, the direction he had assumed to be the source. "Oh, come on." His eyes squinted a bit together as his brows furrowed, while his head slowly shook in disbelief. "You?" A munching sound came from the critter, one of the stored apples halfway eaten between his paws. He craned his neck up to this towering figure, sniffing and trying to figure out if he was in trouble or not.

The boy followed, him a little nervous at first. Was there something dangerous hiding in their house?! His heart beat a little faster, until he heard Quirin speak, his voice not at all panicked or scared. More like... irritated? He tried to lean in to have a better visual, catching his father, crouched down and a familiar face in front of him, eating away on a fruit. It couldn't be the same raccoon, could it? "Is it the same one we helped?"

His nose told him the giant in front of him, was indeed the one who had been with the nice child, making the raccoon relax a little bit at least. He wouldn't hurt him, right? Then a second frame appeared, a lot smaller. It only took him a second until he recognized his blue eyes, as well as the voice that reached his ears. He had originally come back to grab some of these delicious apples and he hadn't expected to meet them again this fast. But of course, they were here, it was their hideout after all! The critter hadn't planned it, yet he was so, so glad to see the boy again. _I'm back!_ He chirped delighted and climbed up the flour bag like a little whirlwind. Now, he was closer, now the boy should see it was him. The kid hasn't given his signal yet, so maybe he was unsure? The racoon tilted his head and chittered joyful, just like he had done yesterday. _Please remember me!_

Varian followed him with his eyes, the critter clearly interested in him now. There was no doubt, this was the same raccoon. He had come back. To steal their food, no less. He didn't exactly appreciate a thief. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see him again. He was glad he was okay, especially with the wolves lurking about. He gave a look at his father however, unsure what to do. The critter had broken in and stole some of their food. He couldn't reward that behaviour with head-scratches and petting. Even though he really wanted to do so, regardless of the fact that he might encourage the creature to do this more often.

The boy gave him a weird expression, not exactly happy, more unsure. _Wasn't he glad to see him again?_ The raccoon's gaze turned a bit guilty. Maybe the child had brought him outside so he would never come back? No! No, this couldn't be, the kid had enjoyed his company, he had been sure! There was no way he would hate him now. So was it really because he didn't remember, already? In this case, he should show him better it was him! With a swift jump, the critter started to climb, rushing up to the place up at the boy's shoulders and rubbed his tiny head on the child's cheek. _Come on, it's me!_ Quirin watched how the raccoon acted, sighing. He hadn't expected to find him in the castle again. How had he even found his way in here? Varian now looked for guidance, an asking gaze directed to his father. "We should bring him outside again. Let me take him." The man remembered how devastated the child had been, leaving the critter alone out there was no easy task for him. Varian had enough emotional stress for today, Quirin could do this much easier.

The alchemist froze for a second, until the raccoon finally, greeted him again, a fuzzy head pressing against his cheek. He couldn't help but smile, his hand reaching up to scratch his back in a friendly motion. A little timid, due to his father being there, but he didn't want to ignore the critter fully. It would have been unfair to treat his only friend, with giving him the cold shoulder. But, he eventually turned to Quirin still unsure on what to do. The man finally spoke, Varian was afraid he was going to say those exact words. Again, throwing the critter out in the cold. Out in the wild with the wolves and the traps and the mean people who had mistreated them both. "...Do we have to?" he asked, guiltily, understanding where Quirin stood, but couldn't bring himself to do this to the raccoon, again. Not after the critter had shown to like him, even after he left him and ran.

The insecurity turned to a pleading, the boy suddenly had a sadness in his eyes, a sadness Quirin couldn't bear. On top of that, even the raccoon looked now in his direction, after he had realized Varian looked at the man, black, beady eyes that watched him calmly. It was amazing how fast he had become this trusting to humans, although they used to keep such animals as far away as they could. And Quirin should do. He really should. But he remembered very well how sad Varian had been in the hallway, after the parting. And how happy he had smiled with the raccoon around, even sleeping on his chest. Quirin couldn't throw the small animal out anymore, not today, not after Varian had expressed his feelings through a shy question. He breathed out, defeated. "No, no, he can stay a bit." The critter would most probably come back anyway. The snow blanket was still thick, food not easy to find. Maybe in early spring they could convince him to stay in the woods.

Varian grinned, lighting up at the answer. He didn't have to say goodbye to his new friend, just yet! He could stay! he glanced over at him, the animal returning the look, probably unaware of the dialogue and its meaning, Varian ruffling his fur to tell him he could stay with them. He responded with a happy chitter, bumping his head on his jaw and cheek, making the boy laugh. He didn't even know he'd be this happy for Quirin to allow him to stay, until the snow no longer covered everything and the freezing weather was replaced with spring warmth.

The reaction of both, made even the man smile. This pure laughter was worth an additional mouth to feed through this harsh winter, more than easily. And if it would become worse, he could always buy more food at the market. This thought brought him back to their actual intention, which had brought them into the storage room. He chuckled softly at the duo before he started to talk. "Well, now that we decided this, back to our meal. What would you like?"

He gave it some thought, making a humming sound, tapping his chin with one hand, his other still petting the raccoon. "So, we were talking about sandwiches. Maybe one with everything will do this time. Cheese, lettuce, tomato. Oh, and of course a double ham slice. I mean, I did just get my memory back, we got to celebrate, right?" he tried to justify his request, putting aside the argument and the running away and the wolves and the tears. They could pretend they never happened, now. Simply letting the good moments continue, without interruption.

"Right." Quirin gave him a smile. Of course they had to celebrate. After all this stress, it has finally come a moment where it truly felt like they could breathe again, like everything had turned out right, in the end. The man turned around and started to collect the named things, adding an apple to the list. The critter may had already eaten, but they probably would need the fruit to distract him from the sandwiches. "Alright, let's go to the kitchen." He gestured to Varian to step out of the room and followed him after he had closed the door. He thought for a second about locking it, to avoid another incident with the critter, but it would also remind him of the latest events, the locked lab door. No. No more locked doors inside the castle. He took his hand away from the handle and headed together with the child to the kitchen. After placing all the ingredients on the table, he turned his head to Varian and their fluffy guest. "Okay, the raccoon can be here, but make sure he won't be on the table." The father tried to establish some basic rules, before the critter simply did what he wanted. He was cheeky for sure, so they better kept a close eye on him.

Varian watched him, a little perplexed when the man hesitated, freezing for a brief moment. For better or worse, he was moving again, before Varian could ask further questions. They paced to the kitchen, petting the raccoon on his way. "Don't worry, he can behave himself. Right?" he spoke, directing himself to the critter at the end, raising an eyebrow at him, with a small smile.

Finally, the child seemed to remember, he had scratched him and smiled and everything seemed perfect. The raccoon enjoyed his place on the shoulders and the gentle touch of the hand. How great that they have met again! Now, the kid looked at him, his voice rising slightly and his gaze was like he needed confirmation. The animal was not sure about what, but it must be okay, everything looked good and safe, right now! The critter chirped approvingly, his black pearls directed to the child, while his mouth opened in a smile.

The alchemist tried to hide a chuckle, actually delighted to have the raccoon in his company once more. He wasn't sure, but he felt like he needed him here, right now. An extra someone to seek comfort from. Not just having Quirin to burden if he got doubts or if a memory returned to haunt him with its reminder. His father would need a break from having to pick up his son whenever he fell emotionally. That's what Varian told himself, at least. By the time the snow melts, it should be time enough for the boy to be able to stand on his own again. It shouldn't take too long. As long as he avoided certain people, he'd be fine. He was sure of that. He then caught Quirin, with the corner of his eyes, starting to prepare the food. "Want me to help?"

Quirin looked over to Varian, the boy had been in thoughts, but now, he seemed motivated. "Yes, here." The father placed two slices of bread on the boy's plate, ready to put the topping on it. He gave him a nod to the other stuff on the table, before he started to cut more bread. They would obviously need more than one sandwich to allay their hunger.

He thanked him for handing him over the bread and proceeded to build his dinner, taking off his gloves first, almost forgetting they were there to begin with. He shoved them in his pockets and carried on with his task, going even a little overboard with the grand build of various ingredients on his plate.

Quirin chuckled at the very generous sandwich of his son, several layers of different ingredients in it. "You can have a second sandwich, too." He gestured to the little pile he had cut. The raccoon, in the meantime, followed the movements of the humans with his eyes, also scanning the amount of food in front of him. He chittered excited, the thing that the boy had made smelled delicious and looked interesting, too. He even wondered if he would get a bite?

"Yeah, I know!" he replied cheerfully, looking at the ensemble in front of him, with a thinking gaze. Anything missing? If he was going to make the perfect, celebratory sandwich, he should at least try to do it right. He was too focused on his task, to notice the critter on his shoulder, forgetting to hold him down, not used to having to keep an eye on anyone other than himself.

The raccoon remembered vividly: the last time here the boy had placed a hand on his back, prompting him to stay. But not now! Does this mean he could go wherever he wanted? There was meat right in front of him, absolutely tempting, alone the scent watered his mouth. The nose of the animal twitched more and more, as he leaned forward. He should really go! With a swift move, he climbed down at the right moment, the child's arm in a perfect angle to use as a ladder. He hopped on the table and took two or three slices of ham, stuffing them immediately in his mouth. But just as much as it was able to hold, the rest was still in his paws, but it was about to vanish, he shoved it in more and more, bit for bit as soon as he got free space in his mouth.

Varian went to reach out to adjust his composition, when suddenly, a weight fell on his arm, climbing down steadily and finally jumping off, a grey ball of fuzz was now on the table, munching on to something, some ham slices disappearing off his plate . Varian was stunned for a moment, not realising what had just happened. The critter had jumped on the table, just as Quirin told him not to let happen! He rushed to pick the critter up, holding him close to himself, looking down at the animal with a worried gaze, then up to Quirin, a little afraid. Afraid that he might throw the critter out now, even though it was Varian's mistake that he didn't hold him down!

The raccoon protested with a chitter, when he was suddenly lifted up, almost losing the ham in the process. But his paws grabbed fast enough to catch the yummy treat again. Before he knew what was going on, he was pressed on the boy's chest, a firm embrace, but still gentle enough to feel comfortable. Yet the child gazed down in worry, like something had happened. Something bad? The animal fell silent for a moment, trying to process what he had missed. In the end, he tilted his head, not able to come to a solution. What was wrong?

Quirin sighed as he saw the raccoon on top of the table, devouring food which wasn't meant for him like a cheeky thief. Varian reacted quickly, after a little shock, holding the animal onto him as if to save him and staring, with an almost fearful gaze, over to his father. Was he afraid to lose his temporary pet? It seemed so. The father didn't appreciate the critter's behaviour at all, yet he hasn't planned to let the mood drop just because of a greedy raccoon. "Well." He shook his head a bit. "It seems like he has a lot to learn." The words were not meant too strict, a small, almost not visible smile gave him away. He won't accept it all the time, but he won't throw out the creature just because of a small mishap.

A sigh of relief left him, slumping a little, still holding onto the critter. Quirin seemed not too bothered by the raccoon's misbehavior, for this time at least. He would need to be more attentive from now on, he wouldn't want his father to throw the animal out in the cold again, not when he himself needed the company. Varian held him in front of him now, making sure the small, black eyes were on him. He frowned, a serious expression, or as much as Varian could be serious when talking to a cutesy, little creature, a face so innocent and full of his stolen dinner, staring back at him. "Don't do that, okay? That's my food."  he spoke, as if he'd understand him. He knew that it couldn't understand human speech, but he hoped that at least his tone was coming across properly.

The child's expression had changed now, more serious as he looked at him. Or rather the meat? Now the raccoon slowly begun to understand. Everything added up, the look, the fact the boy held him now, the voice with a tune that sounded important. He had eaten his portion! The black, beady eyes turned guilty, ears sinking down a bit. He had thought it would be more than enough for the child, but it seemed humans needed more food? Letting a kid starve was not his intention! He looked down to the meat, which was left in his paws, not much, but still. With a soft chitter he held up the remains, ready for the child to take. _Here, I'm sorry!_

Varian stared at him, some more. The small paws reaching towards him, some of the ham still in the tiny claws. A snort left him, hardly suppressing a laugh and finally, bursting out giggling. Keeping up the serious persona with him, was more difficult than he expected. The look he had given the boy, was so innocent, yet so goofy and silly. Could have also been that the earlier stress of the day had made him more susceptible to laughter, something he really needed to balance out the adrenaline rush. He let the animal on the floor and returned his gaze on his food, the most important ingredient, now missing. He'd need to wash his hands now that he touched the raccoon without his gloves. "Dad, I need to go wash my hands for a moment. Should I take him with me?"

The question let Quirin look down to the raccoon, the animal was sitting calm on the ground, a bit dumbfounded, not knowing why his place was suddenly down there and not at the boy's shoulders. However, the gaze didn't last long. This critter was way too curious to keep sitting on a mostly unknown place. The next moment, he was already up to something, waddling around while he must have found a thing he wanted to investigate. Quirin was sure the wouldn't have a peaceful minute here in the kitchen, if the critter would really start his tour. He better hurried to give an answer. "Would be the best, this guy looks like he is way too curious." Also the animal had a lot better connection to the boy, so the father guessed the critter would follow him anyway.

"Alright. Now, come here, you." he replied and then searched for the racoon, finding him a second later. He knelt and picked him up, pushing him a bit up his shoulder, hoping the critter would get the idea. In the meantime, he moved to the door to go to the water pump, grabbing a bar of soap on the way. He tried getting on with his task as if the weight on his shoulders didn't exist. He was a bit of a heavy one, but couldn't hold him and wash his hands, at once, or leave him down and give him time to do anything troublesome. He was done quickly and shook his hands to wring them out.

Before he could explore more, the raccoon was picked up in the middle of motion. A moment, he was disappointed about the fact that he has been disturbed, but then, he understood what the boy wanted: he could sit on his shoulders again! The animal climbed up swiftly, chittering quietly on his spot next to the child's face. He got to see more of this huge place, the boy walked to an area he hasn't seen yet. Everything was so interesting! But between all this new stuff, there was a familiar sound once the boy pulled and shoved on a weird twig. There was water coming out of this thing! Water! In their hideout! The raccoon had no idea the humans had such a thing. He chittered excitedly, the child not only had his own water source, but was doing something weird with it. He had taken a piece out of the kitchen the critter wasn't able to identify. The smell was new to him and got even stronger, as the kid held it into the water. _What is this?_ He would have loved to climb down and take a closer look, but the last time he did, he had eaten the child's portion. The animal tried to be patient, not rushing down on his own. The boy had been nice and he didn't want to cause trouble, who knows what this even was. Still, he was curious, curious enough to lean forward, sniffing and cooing to get attention.

He heard the small whining of the racoon, making him turn to him, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong? You are afraid of the water?" he spoke as if he expected an answer. In a way, he did, even though he knew the dialogue was one sided. Oh, how he wished he could actually talk with the animal, hold a conversation, at least know that he understood him. As of now, he needed to focus on the traps. An invention to talk to animals seemed a little advanced, even for him. He finally returned to the kitchen, announcing his return and carrying on with making his sandwich, putting the final touches.

The thing in the child's hand stayed mysterious. The animal huffed shortly out of disappointment. But well, he would get a chance to investigate this weird piece of something, some day for sure. At the moment, he decided to let it slip, they quickly reached the room where the humans ate, anyway. With calm eyes, the critter watched the boy, placing food on top of each other, adjusting and replacing pieces, like it was something very important. What a difficult way to eat! The raccoon would have simply shoved it in, thing after thing. They seemed all delicious on their own and in the end, everything was in the stomach anyway, so why bother to care about if there is a bit more cheese on one side of the bread than the other? The animal tilted his head, while his eyes were glued on the child's hands and movements, trying to figure out the reason for the kid's behaviour.

Once he was done, he simply sat down, getting his sandwich in his hands, his stomach already complaining that he had taken so long. Without further ado, he took a big bite off his meal, enjoying the taste. He didn't make such special snacks for himself, that often. Usually, such complicated meals were reserved for celebrations and special occasions like his birthday or an experiment going well. Given that he rarely treated himself, those occasions were moments to cherish. They were the moments where he could feel good about himself. The flavour reminding him: it was okay to feel good about himself, right now.

Quirin had already his second sandwich, while Varian took his first bite. The man saw how the child melted because of the taste, a broad smile appearing on his lips. It was a simple meal, yet Varian loved it. A soft chuckle could be heard. "It seems like your technique has worked." Of course Quirin had seen with how much dedication the boy had tried to arrange the ingredients. Had he always done it this way? Probably not, the father would rather assume he had hurried, to go back to the lab as soon as possible. But maybe... the boy had sometimes prepared it this way. It had looked at least, like he had a certain picture in his head, a prototype he wanted to reconstruct.

He rested his elbows on the table, forgetting completely the raccoon on his shoulder, pretty quiet, only his breathing brushing against his cheek from time to time, as its eyes scanned the room. The boy was at least thankful that the critter had learnt to behave. He then heard his father, a near silent laugh in the corner, making him look at his direction, then the man said something. With stuffed cheeks, Varian spoke. "What technique?" he tilted his head a little, genuinely lost as to what Quirin was referring to.

It looked like Varian wasn't aware of the way he had put his sandwich together. "Well, you worked very precisely to prepare your sandwich. So I thought maybe you had a very good idea how a perfect sandwich should be. You even adjusted things and your expression was concentrated." Quirin had simply placed the things on top of each other, the meal had been ready in less than a minute. The father didn't mind if the child took more time, he was just interested if Varian really had rebuilt up his favourite sandwich exactly or if he just played a bit with the ingredients, killing time of some sorts.

Varian hadn't exactly paid attention to himself. If anything, he was surprised Quirin had taken notice at all. Usually, he'd be ignored, left to his own devices. Like he didn't even exist in the room. His father too exhausted to interact or even deal with some earlier mishap caused by his son. But this time, he noticed. Did he look concentrated? It was just a sandwich. Guess old habits, die hard. "Well, I did want it to be as perfect as possible. It's an important day, after all, right?" he replied, referring entirely to finding himself again.

Quirin understood it a bit different, to him the fact he had been able to protect is son and bring him back, almost unharmed, was what was important. He reached out and cupped the child's cheek, with one hand, stroking the skin softly with his thumb. "Yes, yes, indeed." He smiled and let go, finally taking another bite of his own sandwich. The raccoon had chirped quickly, as he had approached, not used to being close to the man. Now, he looked at him with interested eyes, watching his motions. Quirin was almost sure this little guy would most probably cause some trouble, raccoons were cheeky and clever. But on top of his son's shoulders, he seemed so calm and happy, as well as Varian did, the animal had made him laugh and smile and even sleep peacefully. That brought him to another topic, which should be discussed. "I guess you want to let the raccoon sleep in your room, again? Should I search for something he could sleep in, like a basket with a blanket? Or..." He couldn't help it, but a tiny smile appeared on his lips. "Or should he continue to sleep on your chest?" Both had looked adorable the moment Quirin had peeked into the room. Yet the raccoon had a certain weight and the father was not sure if Varian wanted to have the animal there, each night. Maybe they should better give him his own place to sleep.

The boy looked up at him, the tender gesture reminding him of his mother, the few memories he had. He froze a little, unsure how to react, but it was over quickly, for better or worse, the distance returning and continued with his meal. It didn't take him too long to finish it, both eating in the sweet quietness. Once he finished, he pat his hands together to get rid of the crumbs. Then, Quirin spoke, bringing up a pretty good question. Only for a sudden realisation to hit him and make him a little abashed. He must have looked like a kid sleeping with his stuffed toy, in fact, that's what he did when he was young! And with the way Quirin's expression spoke, it seemed his father had been remembering those nostalgic days of his little boy, carefree and easier to protect from harm. Obedient, curious, the cutest little thing Corona had ever seen. That's what his parents used to say. Now that he was older, he no longer heard those words. But it was alright. He was older now. No longer a baby. But that wasn't the point right now. His age had little to nothing to do with how the critter seeked his company. He had looked away at an impulse, grumbling a little, but now, he was trying to think of the earlier question with a clearer head. This is about the raccoon. "Well, I tried to get him to sleep on a pillow on the floor, but, he didn't like it. So..." he finally, answered, petting the critter under the chin, avoiding to look at his father. He still had to prove to him that he was grown up, it seemed. Even though, Varian was the one who failed to realise his true nature.

Varian's cheeks became a nuance more reddish, his gaze darted away as well. The boy was pouting like he had done when younger and somehow it was still, as adorable as it had been years ago. But Quirin kept silent now, simply smiling softly at this sight, while he was waiting until Varian replied. It seemed like the child had already tried to give the critter his own sleeping space. "He didn't like the pillow?" The father thought about it, the raccoon had already slept on a pillow next to the fireplace, so it shouldn't be a new thing for him. "Well, maybe he needs a bit more to convince him. We could take the soft blanket from the living room, draping it around a pillow. Placing it all in the laundry basket. What do you think?"

The alchemist turned his head to the animal, looking at him, as if seeking confirmation of sorts. Admittedly, he liked having the critter near him, a presence to keep him company at night. Being able to see that he was there, indeed. Having him next to him wouldn't be that different, would it? And besides, he had to show that he was grown up now! He didn't need to cuddle something to sleep! "Yeah, that- sounds good." he turned to his father now, nodding, certain of his decision. 

Quirin waited for confirmation, finishing his sandwich in the meantime. "Well then, I'll go and get the stuff. You can already go upstairs, I've got this. Let's see if this little guy accept his new sleeping place if there is a blanket involved." The man stood up and walked with wide steps over to the laundry room, picking a big and open basket, where the raccoon could easily fit into. This should be a good base, the rest that he needed for his plan was in the living room. Once he was there, the father looked at the pillows which were scattered all over the floor, while he tried to remember on which of them the raccoon had already slept. If he chose the right one, there was a higher chance the animal would like it. His gaze wandered over the different pillows, stopping on a particular one. This it should be, right? The man bowed down and picked it up, it was big and soft and fitted very well in the basket. Now the blanket. He reached for the one Varian had used the last days. They had other blankets too, Varian would like them as well. Maybe it was clever to take the already used blanket, it was a very fluffy one and the raccoon had already seen this piece as well. With some movements, the blanket was placed in the basket, covering the pillow on the bottom. This should work, shouldn't it? It looked comfortable at least. This sleeping place will please the animal, Quirin was almost sure. He took the basket with him and walked up the staircase. Now, the raccoon only needed to approve!

In the meantime, Varian left his goggles and apron, in his lab, the gloves still in the pockets. He had to get the critter off his shoulder for a moment, to which he protested, but he quickly found himself back to his place, so no further fuss was made. Varian gave a last look to the lab, before heading to the door. It somehow felt... freeing, to see the room unlocked, again. The sight so ordinary and familiar, now that he knew what everything was. Well, he believed he did, at least. The accident had left him with some horrible blanks spaces. But now that his father was going to be honest with him, he was sure, he wouldn't be left in the dark for too long. Without lingering too much, he turned off the lamp and headed to his room. He got there before Quirin, proceeding to look for his nightgown, tidying up the bed a little bit too. He hadn't exactly left the place in a neat condition, before he went downstairs this morning. He simply put the critter on his mattress and continued with his task, not taking longer than a minute.

They had been in a new room, a place that the raccoon hadn't seen yet. But the time in there, had been over quickly and now, they were in the room the boy had slept, the critter was sure, he could remember these surrounding. Still, the kid didn't seem to come to rest soon, he walked around and left the animal on the mattress. In the end, the boy at least sat down and the critter used this chance to hop into his lap, purring happily while he made himself comfortable, there. Without craning his neck too much, he looked upwards, chirping quietly to get some attention. Quirin had reached the closed door and stopped for a moment. He knew he should better knock, before entering, so he changed the position of the basket into one hand, while leaning the other side onto his hip. He knocked softly onto the wood, followed by a gentle call.

Varian was a little surprised to see the little raccoon, waddling and climbing on his lap, then looking at him as a chirping could be heard. It didn't take a degree in zoology to guess what the critter wanted. He smiled at him and started petting him, the contact calming for both. It had been a stressful day, at long last, he could fully rest. Then a voice came from behind the door. "Yeah, come in!" he answered, not getting up from his comfortable spot.

Quirin stepped in, the basket still on his side. A short glance showed him that the raccoon had already claimed Varian's attention at the moment. So the man walked a bit past them, placing the new sleeping place on the side of the bed, far enough on the end of the bed so Varian would not accidentally trip over it. "Here we are." He looked up and his gaze wandered again to the child, while he stayed crouched on the floor. "Okay son, let's show this little guy his new bed."

The boy eyed the basket with a slightly sad expression, looking down at the raccoon, straight after. He hesitated for a moment, the big eyes looking at him questioningly. But it had to be done. He was not a child anymore. "Yeah, you are right... Come on, boy." he spoke, picking up the critter and getting up, kneeling to put him down on the pillow.

The gentle stroking came to an end and the raccoon felt how he was lifted. He had noticed earlier that the giant had come in, but why did they have to move? It had been so comfortable! The critter blinked and opened his eyes slowly, he had closed them while he had relaxed. Now he found himself on the ground, well not completely. There was a soft ground underneath, the thing the boy had worn, yesterday next to the fire. He could clearly smell his scent in the fabric, this was the first thing he noted while investigating this small spot. It hasn't been there a minute ago, so the giant must have brought it here. But what was the purpose of this thing? He sat up, front paws up to his chest while he chirped with an asking gaze, the black pearls searching for the boy's eyes.

He watched him carefully, a little worried that the raccoon would run back up to him, any minute. But instead, the critter just stood up, looking at him, confused. At least he didn't leave the spot, which was a relief. "You stay here, okay?" he spoke and stroked the small, furred head, getting up to his full height, afterwards and turning at Quirin.

The boy spoke to him, the words clearly directed to him, the raccoon was sure. If only he was able to understand! He leaned into the touch, before the hand left and the boy rose to his feet. It felt a tiny bit like the situation in the snow, some hours ago. But he wouldn't leave him again like this, right? Not here, this was the child's sleeping place after all. So he tried to relax and laid down on the pillow, waiting what would happen now. Quirin watched how the animal lay down. A good thing, this looked very promising. "See, he likes it. It will work." Varian still looked a little sad so the father reached out to ruffle the child's hair. "If he hops out of there, just bring him back. He is clever, he will learn. And you are right next to him, no worries."

He simply nodded, eyes still on the little creature, visibly getting comfortable on his new bed. This let Varian relax, smiling a little, again. "Yeah, he'll be fine. Can you keep an eye on him, though, while I go get ready for bed?" he asked, a simple request that could prove more difficult than expected, if the critter wanted his new friend in the room.

"Yes, go ahead." Quirin took a seat on the mattress, next to the basket. He could watch the animal for sure, it shouldn't be too complicated. A short nod followed, his eyes looked at the child, the boy still there. "He will be fine."

Varian shot a last look at the raccoon, who was just laying down calmly, then up to Quirin again. "Right. I'll be back in a moment." he said and took his nightgown with him, heading to the bathroom to wash up and change. Now that he was alone, he had finally some time to think, process today's events better. It was a hectic day, but it ended well. If anything, the fact that they came out unharmed from the wolf attack, was enough proof that it was a good day, both of them home, safe and sound. And most importantly, no secrets between them. No more hiding. That, he was most glad about. What a weird twist of fate. He certainly would have never predicted this would be his life, a few days ago. A raccoon following him around, his dad interested in his alchemy, well, the village still hated him, but he didn't really care. So what if they don't believe in him? If some of them wanted to hurt him or have hurt him. They didn't matter to him. Only problem was, he'd be the village leader one day. These would be the people he'd be responsible for. How was he going to do that? Before he realised, he had finished his tasks and it was time to head back to his room. He buried the insecurities deep inside and entered his room.

The raccoon looked up, once the door closed, realizing the boy was gone. He chittered in an asking tune, while he got up and hopped out of the basket. If the child was not there, he could explore more! At least he thought so - the moment he was about to run forward, he was grabbed in the middle and lifted up. The animal complained loudly and struggled a moment, until the giant sat him down on the place he had started. A quiet grumble escaped the raccoon, not happy about this drawback. "Hey, hey, little guy, stay." The man had caught the critter in time, placed him as gently as possible back on the pillow. He tried to convince the animal, but after a short grumble, the critter started to stroll, again, away. "No, stay." Quirin reached out and returned the little guy back to his place. He crouched down and looked deep into the black beady eyes. "This is your place for now." The raccoon sniffed and followed his gestures, which gave Quirin hope. He would surely- The next second the raccoon rushed away, chittering like he wanted to tell the man: _I don't want to!_ He slipped through the giant's hands and hopped to the door, realizing it was opening right at this moment. _Was it the boy?_ Hopefully he was! The raccoon chirped and sped up, the boy was much nicer than the man!

As soon as he pushed the door open, he was greeted with the grey fur-ball, chittering and whining, rushing to him. He halted for a moment, a little surprised to see him out of his little corner. Did he hear him approach and he got excited to see him again? He simply looked at Quirin with a questioning look, as if asking 'what did I miss?'.

Quirin pushed himself to smile, rubbing is neck. "He is a little wilder and more stubborn, than I expected." His gaze wandered over to the little creature, next to his son. "But he will learn, I'm sure. Maybe it's best if you bring him back again, he listens more to you, it seems."

Varian crouched down and extended a hand to the little critter. Only to pick him up carefully, right after, holding him close to his chest to carry him. "Did he try to follow me?" he asked as he walked back to the basket, kneeling down again, putting down the animal, carefully on the basket.

The raccoon let out a little whine, it seems like he had to stay there, both humans seemed to insist. "Well, it looked more like he was too curious, to simply sit around. A restless guy." Quirin knew another one who fits the description. Bringing his little son to bed had been also very difficult, the child most of the time, way too excited to fall asleep. The only thing which had been able to keep him in bed, was reading or telling stories. Unfortunately, this technique would not work with the raccoon, the father was sure.

"I see that." he replied, nodding and petting the raccoon a little further. He felt a little guilty, having to leave him to go to his own bed. But he had to insist! Dad had to see that he was more mature and responsible, now. He got up, finally and let out a yawn, already exhausted after a difficult day.

"Okay, time to catch some sleep." The man raised up and grabbed one edge of the blanket, holding it so Varian could slip into the bed. The boy was not as sleepy as on other days, but he needed the rest clearly.

"Sleep sounds good, right now." he answered, another yawn leaving him as he got under the covers, tucking himself in, eyelids already heavy and tired. But before he could sleep, he pushed himself up, a bit, looking over to Quirin. "Dad?" he spoke, a little quiet. "Thank you, for saving me today... And I'm sorry for earlier. I never meant for it to get this bad." he apologised, a little ashamed for the unnecessary trouble he had caused, the least he could do was give him a proper thanks and an apology.

His hand had already laid on the handle, when Varian called out. Quirin blinked in surprise, the apology had caught him off guard, usually his son apologized right after the trouble he had caused, not after such a long time had passed. The wolves must have shocked him deeply, much more than the alchemy accidents he had ever caused. Quirin's gaze wandered back to his son, the voice had been tiny and now, the blue eyes looked sorry up to him. The father's gaze softened, a faint smile appeared, tried to reassure the child. He would always save him. Quirin couldn't help but take the hand away from the handle and walk back to the boy. He crouched down to get on the boy's eye level, looking a moment deep in his eyes. "Hey." He embraced him, stroking the back of his son's head. "I'm here for you." The hug lightened, Quirin drew away a bit, looking again in his son's eyes. "I appreciate your apology." A moment of silence followed, before the man spoke up again. "I'm glad I found you just in time, that I was able to save you." His mind drifted for a split second away, thinking about what would have happened otherwise. He gasped quietly and pushed this thought far away, it was over, the boy was safe again. His hand reached out and ruffled the child's hair, to cover up his reaction, his smile had returned, after the small blink of emotions. Once he drew away, his face went a bit more serious. "Just... no more running away, okay?" His gaze had a hint of pleading in it, the last days had been stressful for him, his own son had seen him as a stranger, so often, he had struggled and fought against his father and even run away in the end. All of this had hurt. Of course Quirin had to take a part of the guilt for why Varian had done this, yet it hurt, nevertheless. The father didn't want to experience something like that again. From now, on it should be better.

Varian watched him, following his movements. The man stopped in front of him, trying to mimic his height and then reaching forward to hug him, a gesture that Varian returned, gladly. Quirin's words only made him tighten the hug back, a quiet 'I know.' leaving him. There was no longer any doubt, Quirin cared for him, and he'd do anything to protect him. He knew that well, now. When Quirin drew away, he spoke again, simple words, yet they meant a lot. But then, something changed on his features, for a moment, as if a flash of terror passed him by, the man quick to shake off the feeling. Varian could only imagine what thoughts had crossed him. Then, a shift in tone again, serious and firm, but still vulnerable and soft, as if it weren't an order, but a request. The boy nodded, no such plans on his list, anymore. He didn't need to run anywhere, he was home! And that's all that mattered. He was safe, his dad was there, he knew who he was. And while not everything was back, yet, he was more certain than ever that being there, was the right thing. "Okay, dad." he replied quietly, with a smile, looking him in the eye.

Quirin smiled in relief, holding the eye contact for some more heartbeats, the moment so peaceful and honest. But finally, he moved again, the boy needed some rest now. The father stroked one last time over the boy's hair, gentle and slow, wishing him again, goodnight. "Sleep well, son." He raised to his feet and left the room, closing the door carefully, behind him. The moment the door closed, the critter raised his head, chirping quietly. The man had insisted that the raccoon returned to his actual place, but now, he was gone no one could stop him! He hopped out of the basket and climbed up, only some seconds later, he was next to the child. The boy had allowed him last night, to sleep there and the animal had loved it. With a happy chitter, he rubbed his head against the child's arm, showing him he was here now. He hasn't thought to be with the boy again, not after he had put him into the snow and left him close to the forest. Whatever had changed their mind, the raccoon was so glad it had happened. His nose twitched, as he looked up into the soft blue eyes, sucking in the familiar yet new scent, so different from his old home. Was this his new home now? The animal didn't know. But he knew that he wanted to enjoy the time here, being close to this human child.

He was about to lie back down, when he heard a noise and then something tugging on his sheets, only for a grey, fuzzy ball to approach him joyfully, rubbing his head against his arm as if it were a pet cat. Varian simply looked at him, a little stunned and tired. 'This is gonna be more difficult, isn't it?' he sighed and picked up the critter, getting off the bed. "No, you stay here." he spoke, putting him back on his basket. He had to remain persistent, right? That's what Quirin told him to do, he knew better! So, he better listen, for a change. It was a first, for himself, but it was a start no less. Besides, he had a point to make. He was no longer a little boy. After leaving the raccoon, down, carefully, he moved back to his own bed, trying to get comfortable, once more.

The raccoon was a little confused when he was lifted up, his surrounding moved, the boy didn't put him onto his chest. Instead, he soon felt the soft fabric of the blanket underneath, again back at the spot in the basket. He protested with a chitter, as soon as the boy was out of sight. Why was he always placed here? He shook his body sulkily and huffed. One more try! His tiny paws could be heard while he hurried over to the bed, climbing up again, this time right up to the boy's chest. Black beady eyes looked at the child, his own nose so, so close to the kid's one. A soft coo tried to show the child how pleasant he felt here. Why staying at this lonely place down there, when the boy was so close?

Just as he thought it had worked, something climbed on his chest, staring at him with innocent and confused eyes, a little sound reaching him, telling him that the critter wanted to keep him company, like last time. Varian's palm quickly collided with his forehead, his hand dragging his face down. He was a stubborn one, for sure. He pushed himself on his elbows, looking down at the raccoon who still refused to get off him. "Didn't I just say to stay in your bed?" he spoke, a little scolding, but the animal's gaze held him back from going full out 'strict parent' with his mannerisms. And speaking of strict parent, Quirin would probably be disappointed to see his son give up easily. He had to show him he could do this, he had to! He picked up the critter again, getting off the bed and kneeling down to the basket to put him down, staying there for a moment. "Stay."

The critter heard the words, he really did, his ears twitched at the sound. Should he stay there? Maybe. But he was not keen on the idea. He got up, standing on his hind paws to see the boy better, an attempt which didn't help much. But even if the child's face was high above him and he couldn't read his expression clearly, the raccoon chittered as a response, louder than usual, like he would argue back.

Varian looked at him, a little something in him making his stomach knot a little. He still remembered how the critter had reacted when he locked him in the shed, seeing himself in him so much. And now he was trying to abandon him again. What if Quirin did the same when he needed to be comforted, when he needed a hug, to know that he wasn't alone. What if the raccoon was as touch-starved as he was. The thought of Quirin pushing him away as Varian tried to get to him, made his heart ache a little. Just like with the shed, he wouldn't want this to happen to someone else. He'd hate if he were the raccoon, right now. Once more, the fuzzy fella, won. Varian picked him up with a sigh, holding him close and getting under the covers.

Two hands picked the raccoon up by the middle, carefully. The animal liked this, he left the basket behind and was close to the child, so he had convinced the boy it seemed! He closed his eyes on their way, purring in relief. His ears then recognized the rustling of the blanket which covered not only the child's chest now, but him as well. Only the nose was still uncovered, peeking out of the thick and soft fabric. His eyes blinked open and he looked surprised, as his sight was partly blocked, the blanket on his head like a roof. He chirped softly, it was cozy, yet unfamiliar. The last time he was wrapped up like that, his leg had been in pain and he was still nervous. But now, so much has changed! The fabric didn't hinder him anymore, it was more like a hideout. He chittered excited, black pearls locked on the boy's face.

It didn't take too long for the raccoon to get comfortable, as expected. He couldn't lie, seeing the little guy being like this, was just adorable, he couldn't resist a smile. He pet the critter, ruffling his fur, feeling a lot happier with him, there, now. "Just for tonight, okay? And you gotta get off in the morning, before my dad sees you... He can't think I'm still a helpless kid. I need to prove myself, you know?" he spoke, having finally someone to talk with more of a relief than he thought.

Warm fingers combed through his fur, letting the raccoon relax. He cooed again, the tune from the child, now less serious, way softer too. The ears were now pointing to the boy, listening to the voice. It still seemed to be important, somehow, he could tell. He looked up, scanning the expression of the child, waiting if it would change. He may not understand the words, but he could see his feelings very well.

Quirin had brushed his teeth and was about to head to his own bedroom, when he heard Varian speaking. He was not about to overhear, but then the word 'dad' fell and he stopped in his tracks. What had Varian to talk about? He must be speaking to the raccoon or himself. But why? Was still something burdening him? He sneaked closer, his face now next to the door. His heartbeat raised a bit, he knew he shouldn't do this. Yet he wanted to know, what if he could help him? Varian was sometimes really secretive and he wanted his son happy, not dragged down with problems. So he simply had to check this. With held breath, he listened closely.

Varian sighed, petting the raccoon still, the animal working almost as a heater, lulling him even more to sleep. "I've had him save me way too many times... What is he gonna think of me if this continues?! I'm not a child... I'm not. I can do things, great things! They'll see. All of them, everyone- every single one of them who laughed at me and called me names and treated me like garbage... And dad... They'll all see what I can do." his tone softened again after the slight excitement in the middle of his monologue. "They won't hate me anymore... They'll accept me and I won't have to hide in fear. And my dad will be proud. I'm sure he will." he said, a yawn following soon after, cuddling the critter a little in his chest. His eyes drifted shut after their restless darting all over the ceiling, resting at last.

The words were quiet through the wood, yet Quirin could understand everything good enough to follow. His eyes grew wider at the part where Varian had concerns about the future, about hiding and about acceptance. This was exactly what Quirin had feared for. He didn't want a future for his son where he was an outsider. That's why he had tried to hide the alchemy away. But that didn't changed that it had been wrong. Alchemy was a part of his life, it was not bad anyway, there had been already important alchemists back in history. All Varian needed was guidance. Quirin's gaze became serious, he knew it wouldn't be easy, since he had no experience on science stuff. Still, he wanted to give his best. He pressed his lips to a thin line and made a silent nod to himself. He could do this. Tomorrow they will start and it will go well. It had to. The father silently walked away, determination in his gaze, now finally, heading to his own bedroom.

The raccoon had listened closely, attentive black eyes focused on the boy. He tilted his head after the shift in tune, chirping softly. Then he laid his head against the warm chest, still looking at the child. He purred a bit, the hand still slowly moving over his fur, coming to a halt after his eyelids closed. The critter did the same, he felt safe here, a warm surrounding, a gentle hand on his back and a blanket covering them. Soon, he snored quietly, happy and secure in the boy's embrace.

A couple of hours passed, peaceful and uninterrupted, the night going by without anyone in the house noticing. A near eerie serenity filled each room. A shame that the peace wouldn't last for everyone. Varian's eyes darted underneath his eyelids, looking, searching desperately for an escape. He may have been laying on his bed, but he could feel himself getting out breath, running, dragging himself as the ground felt almost sticky, as if he was stepping on snow. He could hear sounds right behind him, growls and cries and footsteps, his heart drumming his ears, like a horrific symphony. It was just him, the tall tree trunks emerging, like pillars, from the snow and the noise, so, so much noise! He was alone, or rather, bad company was tailing him. He couldn't tell if they were human or not, what he knew, was that they outnumbered him. He finally, reached a small house, the door cracked open and he dashed inside, slamming the door behind him. He was now in a dark room, somehow colder than the outside. Nails scratched on the wooden walls, outside, howling and hollering, human voices mixed with animal sounds. From the human voices, a few words echoed distinctly. Freak. Threat. Disappointment. All so familiar, yet they hurt. Why were they saying those things? He knew why. Yet he refused to acknowledge it now... He backed up, trying to distance himself from the noise. But it surrounded him. Instead, he stayed in the middle of the dark room, hugging himself, looking for an exit, an escape. "Dad...?" he called, but no reply reached him. Oh, how he wished Quirin was there! He'd protect him! He'd save him! But there he was, alone, and the noise got louder and louder. Until, the walls finally crumbled and the crowd that was chasing him, was finally able to reach him, closing in slowly, shadows or humanoid creatures and four legged beasts, stepping towards him. "D-Dad?!..." he called one more time, a steady frenzy in his chest as his options died one by one. At last, the beasts could no longer wait. They lunged forward with a growl, right for the alchemist. Varian's eyes opened with a loud gasp, his hand reaching out to stop the attack. But nothing was there, only the ceiling above him. His hand shook and catching his breath was difficult. He could have sworn he felt sweat running down his temples. 'It was only a dream.'

His whole world moved slightly, an uncommon feeling for the raccoon. His eyes blinked open, a bit sleepy, but he awoke completely soon, as he recognized the wild heartbeat of the boy. He cooed worried, there must be something wrong! But the child's eyes were still closed when he searched for the child's face. So no threat he could see? His nose captured the scent of sweat, it was fear and stress. The critter's expression went concerned and he carefully waddled forward. Not too late, a second later the boy's hands shoot upwards, shoving the blanket away with the move and making the raccoon jump a little. His fur in the neck had ruffled up at this sudden movement and his own heartbeat had raised too, but he had heard the gasp and saw how disoriented the child looked, now. He hurried further and reached the child's face swiftly. With a soft chitter, he looked in the blue eyes, now open and held the eye contact some moments before he pushed his nose gently on the child's cheek and started to lick the sweat away. They were safe here, the child didn't need to be nervous!

His hand dropped beside him, a small exhale leaving him. Then, the raccoon covered his vision, the beady eyes looking at him and then a small tongue like soft sandpaper on his cheek. He started petting him, almost without thinking, his mind occupied by the things he had seen. It had been such an awful week. And today was probably the scariest of them all. If Quirin had been even a second too late-. He shook his head, shutting his eyes lightly and turned to his side, leaving the raccoon to face his back.

The child moved away, despite the critter's attempts to comfort him. A little disappointed, the raccoon sniffed and shook his head quickly. But he was no one to easily give up! Tiny claws grabbed into the fabric, as the animal climbed up, now balancing on the child's side up to the face again. He chirped and rubbed his head on him, his front paw reaching out and gently stroking over the cheek. The child shouldn't be sad anymore! Or upset! The critter wanted to help him, calm this still nervous heartbeat down. This was the best which came to his mind. Humans like cuddling too, don't they?

It was clear that they critter wanted to comfort him, an attempt that didn't go unnoticed, not in the slightest. But Varian was scared, too shaken by what he had seen. That could have been him. It could have. And if Quirin arrived late, what he'd find-. He curled up more, hiding his face in his palms. He wanted to stop thinking about it. But it felt impossible. He was still shaking, but it was not as bad when he woke up. If only Quirin was here now.

A hand slid over the face and the raccoon was at a loss. Why hasn't it worked? Didn't he like stroking? A whine escaped his mouth and he climbed along the child's side, back and forth, the small human frame shaking still. Finally he jumped down between his arms, pressing himself in the small spot, chittering to get the kid's attention. Whatever he feared, it was not here! So he better help him to snap out of it!

Varian heard a chitter and felt something trying to get in his arms. He took his hands away and looked at the critter. He was trying so much to comfort him, and Varian kept ignoring him. It wasn't fair. So far, the only ones to show him this much kindness were Quirin and the raccoon. His father wasn't there right now, so his only source of comfort was the little animal. With a careful move, he reached out and hugged the little fur-ball. Holding him close to his chest as he curled up even more, stroking the raccoon's head, trying to tell himself it was only a dream. His eyes had welled up, however, even though his heart had finally stopped racing a million miles per minute. "Thank you..." he whispered, his voice breaking.

Finally, the boy noticed him truly. Feeling a hand petting his head relieved the raccoon, the child was back, no longer hiding from something which was not here. He leaned into the touch, purring. Actually, the critter wanted to stroke him and now it was the other way round. But it seemed to work, the kid was now calmer than before and the animal loved the feeling of the gentle hand too much to complain about. Still, the kid's voice made his heart ache, nothing like the soft tune which he had heard so often before. It was more like the time they had parted! After this thought, he snuggled closer, pressing himself closer onto the chest, chittering like he would talk to the boy, reassuring him. He couldn't tell him anything, but he was here, and he cared. The child was not alone and he should know this!

He kept his eyes open for a little while, too scared to let them drift shut. But the warmth of the raccoon and the softness of the fur, lulled him into sleep again, feeling safe once more. Completely forgetting that he'd need to put the critter back in his basket in the morning, before Quirin saw.

The raccoon simply enjoyed the treatment, smiling satisfied because the heartbeat of the child had calmed down, the shaking had gone away. His attempts had been successful! He soon closed his eyes too, a steady purring sound leaving him, until he finally fell asleep. 

 


End file.
